


Before I Ever Met You

by howtowasteamoment



Category: Carmilla (Web Series)
Genre: Alternative Universe - LDR, Carmilla ldr, F/F, Fluffy, Long-Distance Relationship, Other, Sassy, Slow Burn, Smutty, angsty
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-26
Updated: 2016-04-17
Packaged: 2018-05-09 13:11:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 52,337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5541275
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/howtowasteamoment/pseuds/howtowasteamoment
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"If you’ve never laid your eyes on someone. If you’ve never heard whether their voice is sweet or raspy when they talk. If you can’t make out their laugh in a room full of people or if you’ve never even touched their skin and never felt their warmth beneath your fingers… do they even exist?"</p><p>--</p><p>Aka the one where Laura and Carmilla meet online and experience the <i>wonders</i> of a long-distance relationship (for a while anyway).</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Sweet Disposition

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello there dear reader.
> 
> Welcome to the beginning of what's gonna be an emotional ride, so buckle up, creampuff - you're in for a ride. 
> 
> I'm aware that there are a lot of text messages in the first few chapters, but bear with me. We need to lay some groundwork, ya know? I've tried to style it as reader-friendly as possible though, so hopefully it's not too annoying (took me fucking ages too), BUT if you're experiencing any problems or even if you have an idea for improvement, please just write me and I'll take a look at it, 'kay? 
> 
> Yeah, so... give it a go and tell me what you think?

If you’ve never laid your eyes on someone. If you’ve never heard whether their voice is sweet or raspy when they talk. If you can’t make out their laugh in a room full of people or if you’ve never even touched their skin and never felt their warmth beneath your fingers… do they even exist?

  
**Approximately 2 months ago**

* * *

HeyCarmilla: | Have you even bothered to read any of the books that you continually insist on quoting on your blog or did you miraculously manage to break away from your clear obsession with overrated and mindless television shows to actually read the entirety of Albert Camus’ Notebooks?  
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You’re sprawled out on your bed one night, watching one of your so-called ‘overrated and mindless television shows’ when you receive the first message. You frown down at your phone. You’re pretty certain that you don’t know the person who sent you this, but then again, it’s not the first time (and probably not the last) that you’ve received odd messages from strangers on that site.

Laura2theLetter: | Ummm… What?  
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You’re not sure why you even bother replying; you should probably just ignore the message and forget about it. You don’t.

HeyCarmilla: | You don’t even know who Albert Camus was, do you, cupcake? Figures.  
---|---  
  
The next message makes you frown even more as you sit up in bed and stare at your phone. The attitude of this stranger bothers you for some reason, but you don’t know why. You haven’t done anything wrong. It’s your blog - you can post whatever the frilly hell you want.

Laura2theLetter: | Seriously, what’s your problem?  
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You’re perfectly aware that you should just let this go. Starting arguments with strangers on social media is about as useful as using bug spray on Voldemort. Yet, here you are.

HeyCarmilla: | My problem is the fact that people are so busy cutting corners today instead of putting in the actual work - like reading the Goddamn book instead of quoting something you really don’t have any idea about just so you can pretend to be something you’re not to the rest of the Goddamn world.  
---|---  
  
You raise eyebrows at the stranger’s angry reply. Surprisingly though, you don’t find yourself offended. You spend a few minutes scrolling through the stranger’s blog to try and get a feel for the person.

Laura2theLetter: | Do you want to talk about it?  
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There’s something about the kind of sad and angry quotes on their blog… the dark and broody feel to it. Now, you're not exactly a psychologist, but it’s not exactly a depressed feeling you get… although there's definitely some pain there. Maybe even loneliness. 

HeyCarmilla: | What?  
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Laura2theLetter: | Do you want to talk about what’s really bothering you?  
---|---  
  
You don’t know why you even care. It’s not like you know this person. Still, you can’t just let it go. Maybe they just need someone to listen.

HeyCarmilla: | Are you joking? … I just told you what’s bothering me. I didn’t realise I was visiting Dr. Phil’s blog.  
---|---  
  
Scratch that. You _are_ offended. You are just trying to help and this person is just being rude.

Laura2theLetter: | Suit yourself.  
---|---  
  
You give up and throw your phone across the bed. You thought maybe all they really needed was to talk to someone, that the reason for their angry outburst was just a cry for help, so you decided to give them the benefit of the doubt. Clearly that was a mistake.

You hear your phone vibrate and you try not to think too much about how quick you are to retrieve it from the other end of the bed.

(You may very well have been a ninja in a former life. You’re actually quite sure of it.)

HeyCarmilla: | … my mother is a bitch.  
---|---  
  
_HeyCarmilla started following Laura2theLetter_

You shake your head at the odd behaviour of the stranger, but you still let out a small laugh as you ask them if their mother didn’t know who Albert Camus was either.

You also follow them back.

**Now**

* * *

Carm [01:05pm]: |  How’s your day so far, cupcake?  
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You smile down at the message on your phone as you walk through campus on a surprisingly warm day in October. You always smile lately… well, when it’s one particular person messaging you anyway.

Laura [01:06pm]: | You mean since we talked this morning? :D  
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You’re not quite sure how or why, but for some reason, the two of you kept talking after that night a few months ago. In fact, you’re not sure a day have gone by since then that you haven’t.

Carm [01:07pm]: | Exactly. We haven’t talked in ages.  
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You can’t help but let out a small laugh as you shake your head and open the door to your dorm building. For the past few weeks, since you finally exchanged phone numbers (it was just far more convenient that way), you _have_ been texting an awful lot. Like, _all the time_. Not that you mind… You really don’t.

Laura [01:08pm]: |  Sorry :( Some of us do have classes that we actually pay attention in, you know…  
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If you're being quite honest though, the only reason you didn’t text Carmilla earlier is because this particular professor really is extremely strict when it comes to the use of cellphones in class. She doesn’t need to know that though.

Carm [01:08pm]: | Are you insinuating that I don’t, sweetheart?  
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You only think about it for a second. For some reason you have her entire class schedule memorised in your head…

Laura [01:09pm]: | Don’t you have class like… now?  
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Carm [01:10pm]: | I’m great at multitasking, cupcake… ;-)  
---|---  
  
You laugh out loud again as you walk down the hallway to your dorm room. You don’t really pay attention to where you’re walking until you nearly walk right into someone.

“Something funny, L?” LaFontaine asks you with a knowing look on their face.

You can’t help the blush you feel spreading up your neck to your cheeks. You haven’t really told LaF much about Carmilla, haven’t really told anyone else about her, but still you can’t understand why you’re blushing. You’re just friends, after all. If even that.

“I, er… I…” You mumble quickly. You were never good under pressure.

“Are you ever going to tell me about this mystery woman of yours or should I just assume she’s not real?” They joke with a grin on their face.

Ironically, you’re not even sure if she _is_ real. Sure you’ve been messaging back and forth for almost two months now, and you _think_ you know her, but can you ever really know someone you haven’t even met?

(LaF has made you watch too many episodes of Catfish to know that you can’t.)

You roll your eyes before walking past them, “I’m not even dignifying that with an answer, LaF…”

You only say this, of course, because you don’t know what else to say. LaF (and therefore probably Perry) knows that you haven’t actually met Carmilla in real life. You know it worries them, which is why you don’t talk much about it with them. Or anyone, really.

Truth be told, you don’t know much about Carmilla yourself - like, you don’t even know what she looks like or when her birthday is. She’s been oddly vague about all the basic information and she hasn’t asked about you either… Which is weird, right?

Still, you guess you do know her in a way. You know that she lives in Paris where she’s studying philosophy, which she’s pretty passionate about it (much to her mother’s disapproval). You know that she likes girls (also much to her mother’s disapproval). You know that her mother is as horrible and controlling as they come and that her childhood wasn’t exactly rainbows and kittens. You know that she’s got a horrible attitude and that sarcasm is like her native-language, but underneath all of that, she’s actually quite sensitive.

You also know that she makes you smile. A lot.

Laura [01:16pm]: |  Cheeky ;)  
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Carm [01:17pm]: | But also true.  
---|---  
  
This was new though. The _maybe_ -flirting. To be honest, you couldn’t be sure where Carmilla was concerned, but not because you didn’t know whether or not she was into girls. Just based on the amount of naked women dominating her blog you’d say that was pretty obvious (yes, you stalk her frequently. You _are_ a journalism major, after all). You just have a feeling it’s sort of how she communicates… that or sarcasm.

Carm [01:20pm]: | What are you doing right now?  
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Laura [01:21pm]: | Just got back from class. Heading to the library in a bit. How’s class? :)  
---|---  
Carm [01:22pm]: | Boring.  
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Carm [01:22pm]: | This year’s reading list is ridiculous. Philosophy should be a bloodsport for great minds, not a pleasant distraction.  
---|---  
  
This is one of the things you really like about her. She’s so passionate about the things she loves and although her intellect intimidates you sometimes, you can’t help but find it infatuating.

Laura [01:24pm]: | You really love what you do, don’t you?  
---|---  
  
You start packing your things to head to the library to meet up with your TA and friend, Danny. Before you head out of the door though, she texts you back.

Carm [01:25pm]: |  You shouldn’t waste time on things that doesn’t matter to you.  
---|---  
  
You freeze with your hand on the door handle and frown at the message. You don’t know why, but you can’t help but think of all the time the two of you have spent texting back and forth. You choose not to dwell on it. It’s probably not what she meant and so you shake your head and walk out into the hallway.

* * *

“Hey, Danny!” You smile broadly as you sit down at the table you spotted her sitting at. 

“Afternoon, Hollis.” She smiles back at you and you can’t help blushing. She really has a great smile (you wonder how Carmilla’s smile is… you wonder, not for the first time, what she even looks like.)

“So,” You clear your throat to try and distract her from the fact that you probably look like a freak staring at her, “What’s new in the world of _Danny Lawrence_?”

She smiles at you (no doubt at your dorkiness), “Oh, you know… not much. Kinda busy planning the Adonis Festival for the Summer Society.”

“Right… That’s next month, isn’t it?” You ask although _everyone_ knows the exact date of the festival. It’s a big thing around here.

“Yeah, exactly.” Danny smiles kindly.

You don’t know what else to say. This always happens to you - not just with Danny, but with girls that you find attractive in general. You just blank.

“So…” You drawl, “How about Hester Prynne, huh? Note to self - don’t commit adultery or you may end up with a ruined wardrobe.”

Danny looks at you funnily before she laughs. A great laugh at that (again, you can’t help but wonder how Carmilla’s laugh sounds like). “Alright, Hollis, if that’s what you took away from the book, then we have more work to do than I thought.”

You laugh quietly as you avert your eyes from her and feel the blush spread over your skin again, “Let’s get to work then. Teach me something.”

“I’ll try.” She laughs, but you still can’t look at her.

You stay at the library for a few hours with Danny and once you get talking about the work, you loosen up a bit and you relax in her company. You appreciate her help more than you’ve probably told her. You’ve just always preferred the medium of the television to that of the book.

“Hey, Hollis?” Danny asks you before you part ways at the library (apparently she’s heading off to the gym with Kirsch and not back to the dorms.)

“Yeah?” You smile at her. You can’t help it with the way she’s looking at you.

“Maybe we could grab a coffee sometime or something?” She asks, a bit nervously. You’ve never seen this side of her… you kind of like it, “You know… without Ms. Hester Prynne?”

In that moment you feel your phone vibrate in your pocket and you almost have to fight yourself in order not to see if it’s Carmilla.

“I…” Why are you hesitating? You like this girl. She’s sweet, she’s gorgeous, she makes you laugh. Most of all… she’s here. She’s real. “Yeah… I’d love to.”

* * *

“What movie do you wanna watch, L?”

You look up from your phone from where you’re sitting on your bed. You honestly haven’t heard a word LaF just said because you were busy texting Carmilla not to kill the waitress who just spilled her coffee all over one of her precious books.

“What?” You ask distractedly.

“Movie…” LaF repeats next to you with the laptop in front of you, “Which one?”

“Um… I don’t know. Just pick one.” You say before returning to your phone.

“Mmmh… Alright,” LaF drawls, “Saw marathon it is.”

“Yeah, sounds great..” You say as you smile at Carmilla’s text saying she only listened to you because they don’t allow phones in prison and _that would be a shame, wouldn’t it, cupcake?_ when you realise what LaF actually said, “Wait, what the what?” You look up panicked, “LaF!”

They grin at you with a knowing look, “You really got it bad, don’t you?”

You’re about to answer them that it’s not like that - you’re _just_ talking, you don’t even know if you’d call yourselves friends, when someone interrupts you.

“Who’s got it bad?” Perry asks as she closes the door behind her, her famous brownies in hand, and walks over to the bed where you’re sitting.

“Laura.” LaF answers, earning them a glare from you, “She can’t stop texting her mystery woman long enough to pick a movie.”

You scoff offended, “Not true!”

“You literally just agreed to watch all seven Saw movies - including the 3D version - just because you were distracted by your secret admirer.”

“She’s not my secret admirer!“ You exclaim, a tiny bit annoyed, “She’s not my anything, okay?”

LaF is about to say something when Perry beats her to it.

“You agreed to watch all the Saw movies?”

You and LaF both frown at Perry, “So not the point, Perr.” LaF shake their head, but clearly they can’t stop smiling at her. It’s really kind of cute.

Perry shrugs as she puts down the plate of brownies on the shelf behind the bed, “I really don’t see what the problem is, LaFontaine… They’re just talking.”

“Thank you, Perry.” You say as you gesture to her for emphasis. It doesn’t matter at this point though, it never does with those two. At this point they’ve moved into their own little bubble where no one else exist and all you can do is watch.

“ _Just_ talking, Perr? They talk every second of every single day.” LaFontaine argues over your head basically.

“Not exactly true, but…” You try to intervene, but Perry is already on it.

“And what’s wrong with that? _We_ pretty much talk every second of every single day too and I don’t see you complaining about that.”

You can’t help but notice the slight blush in LaF’s cheeks. It’s so obvious that they’re crushing hard on their best friend; you can’t help but feel sorry that Perry is so oblivious about it.

“That’s different.” LaFontaine states more quietly, “We… We’re best friends, we know each other, we’ve actually met.”

You can’t help but roll your eyes at this. You really love them, but sometimes they treat you like this fragile human being and of course you know it’s only because they care about you and they’re trying to protect you… but you don’t need it. Not from your dad or from them… not from anyone.

“Aw, shucks.” Perry answers dismissively, “I’m sure Laura is taking all the precautions for safe online chatting.”

“You guys do know that I’m right here, right?” You try to get their attention. It doesn’t work, of course.

“For all she knows, for all anyone know, she could be chatting with some 60 year-old bearded man who’s trying to take advantage of her!” They exclaim a bit too dramatically, “I’m sure Danny would agree with me on this.”

“What’s Danny got to do with this?“ You ask, but, naturally, you’re once again ignored.

“Not everything has to be a giant mystery of sorts, LaFontaine. I seriously doubt that —”

“Stop!” You finally exclaim loudly, having reached your limit of being ignored in a discussion concerning your own life for the evening, “Just stop, okay? I know what I’m doing.”

You feel a little bad about yelling at them. You know both of them are just trying to help. That’s what they’ve done ever since you met them a little over a year ago when you first transferred to Silas University. They took you under their wings the moment you arrived, and you’ve honestly never had better friends.

“I’m sorry, L…” LaF says a few moments after, “I just… I’m just looking out for you, you know that, right?”

“I know…” You sigh deeply, letting go of your frustrations. You know they have your best intentions at heart, ”But you have to trust me, okay? We’re _just_ talking. I… I actually have a sort-of-maybe-date with Danny next week.”

“A sort-of-maybe-date?” LaFontaine asks with a knowing smile, to which you can’t help but smile back and roll your eyes.

“See,” Perry says and gestures to you, “She’s got everything perfectly under control.”

“Yeah, yeah…” You say as you grab the laptop to find a movie to watch (and _not_ anything with gore in it), “How about the Avengers?”

You hear both of them groan and complain about how many times you’ve watched that. You can’t help but smile as you all settle in and the red familiar Marvel signature flashes across the screen.

* * *

Laura [11:43pm]: | You awake? :)  
---|---  
  
You haven’t talked to her for hours (you thought it best to give your friends your undivided attention to make a point) and you… you sort of miss her? Or, well, not _her_ , obviously. You’ve never met her, so that would be ridiculous, but you _do_ miss talking to her.

Carm [11:47pm]: | What hath night to do with sleep?  
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Laura [11:47pm]: | Huh ??  
---|---  
  
It wasn’t out of the ordinary for her to write weird things like that… especially at night.

Carm [11:52pm]: | Milton. Paradise Lost. |   
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Carm [11:52pm]: | You should read it sometime. It’s good.  
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You have a feeling she’s in an odd mood tonight. That happens sometimes, but you’ve learned the hard way not to push her when she’s like this.

Laura [11:52pm]: | I think I’ve my hands full with the Scarlet Letter tbh. :(  
---|---  
  
You decide to try and distract her from whatever is on her mind instead. It’s not the first time you’ve done this.

Carm [11:53pm]: | You’re reading that in your lit class?  
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Laura [11:54pm]: | Yeah… My TA is helping me through it. I have to write an article on the themes of the book in a different journalism class. You know, find the story and all that.  
---|---  
  
You’ve told Carm about Danny before. Not much, but enough to give her a sense of your relationship, you think.

Carm [11:58pm]: | And what did your TA tell you were the themes of the book?  
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Laura [11:58pm]: | Something about breaking society’s rules, I guess?  
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Carm [12:00pm]: | I thought you said she was your TA.  
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You’ve noticed that Carm tends to question a lot of things when it comes to Danny. Especially when it comes to her position as TA, for some reason. 

Laura [12:00pm]: |  She is? :b  
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Carm [12:03am]: |  That’s hardly the main theme of the book, sweetheart.  
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Laura [12:04am]: | You’ve read it?  
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You can’t help but smile as you feel you accomplished your mission of distracting her from her own mind. The fact that it’s apparently Danny’s interpretation of the book that did it is what it is.

Carm [12:05am]: | Hasn’t everyone? I thought everyone read it in high school.  
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Laura [12:05am]: | They do…  
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Laura [12:05am]: | I watched the movie instead. :D  
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Carm [12:06am]: | Ugh, please tell me it wasn’t the horrible remake with Demi Moore and that you at least watched the 1927 version instead…  
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You can’t help but laugh as you turn around on your stomach in bed and focus solely on your conversation.

Laura [12:06am]: | O:-) |   
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Laura [12:06am]: | I always liked Demi Moore.  
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Carm [12:07am:] | Of course you did.  
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You wait for her to say something else, but she doesn’t. You have a feeling that you’re losing her again.

Laura [12:10am]: | So?  
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Carm [12:12am]: | So?  
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Laura [12:12am]: | What’s the main themes of the book then?  
---|---  
  
You know she can’t resist discussing any kind of literature… or maybe you know she can’t resist correcting Danny.

Carm [12:15am]: | Alienation, mostly… |   
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Carm [12:15am]: | Appearance versus reality… How people or events are not necessarily what they seem to be.  
---|---  
  
There is something about what she just said that reminds you of the first conversation you ever had with her, the conversation that started it all.

(You know you probably shouldn’t, but you can’t help but ask. You think you know what’s going on with her tonight.)

Laura [12:20am]: | Have you talked to your mother recently?  
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Surprisingly, she doesn’t bite your head off… so, maybe you were wrong about where her mind is at after all.

Carm [12:21am]: | God, no… I try to avoid that as much as I can, you know that. |   
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Carm [12:22am]: | Did you make up with your dad yet? Or did you at least talk to him today?  
---|---  
  
You’re surprised by her question, but you don’t actually know why. She’s always been interested in you, your well being and who you are (apart from the basic information, weirdly enough); more so than anyone you’ve ever met, to be honest.

You guess it’s because you told her about the fight you had with him a few days ago (the same frilly fight about your Silas transfer, yet again, even a year after), but still, you didn’t think she’d remember.

Laura [12:25am]: | Not yet. He’ll come around though. He might be extremely over-protective of me, but he always taught me to pursue my dreams and that’s exactly what I’m doing.  
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Carm [12:27am]: | Not my mother. She’d rather I spent the rest of my life pleasing her than living my own life, pursuing my own dreams and desires.  
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Laura [12:27am]: | I wish I could knock some sense into your mother.  
---|---  
  
(It isn’t the first time you’ve thought about it).

Carm [12:28am]: | Ha, I’d definitely pay to see that, cupcake. ;-) |   
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Carm [12:28am]: |  As for your dad, you know he’s only being like that because he cares about you… He wants to keep you safe.  
---|---  
  
You know she’s referring to your mum… to the fact that he _couldn’t_ keep her safe, so he’s doing whatever he can to make sure you are. You don’t even know why you told her in the first place. You never talk about it. To anyone.

Laura [12:30am]: | I know. But I’m not a little kid anymore… And if going to Silas is gonna help me achieve my dream, then that’s what I’ll do. Whether he likes it or not.  
---|---  
  
It’s only after you’ve sent the text that you realise that you just revealed where you go to University… You doubt there’s a lot of universities named Silas in Styria. Maybe it’s for the best though, maybe you can finally learn more about each other… or, other stuff, rather.

She doesn’t answer you.

Laura [12:37am]: | Carm?  
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Carm [12:39am]: | Yes?  
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You want to ask her. You want to know what she looks like and how her voice sounds. You want to know if she’s even real.

Laura [12:44am]: |  Good night  
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But you don’t ask her. You don’t ask her anything… and you’re not quite sure why not. Maybe you’re afraid to push her away, or maybe you’re afraid you won’t like her answers. Either way, you don't.

Carm [12:45am]: | Good night, cupcake  
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	2. City of Light

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Carmilla is still adjusting to her life in Paris as well as she can, but it's not easy when her Mother keeps a hold on her - even miles away. Laura is getting more and more curious as well as impatient.

Carmilla [07:30am]: | Morning, cutie  
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You’re not even sure when texting her mere seconds after waking up became a habit, but it did. It’s like brushing your teeth in the morning at this point. Still, it doesn’t make you smile any less when she texts you back.

Cupcake [07:34am]: | How do you even know if I’m cute? I could be a 60-year old hairy dude  
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Cupcake [07:34am]: | With a beard  
  
You laugh as you put your phone down on the sink and take off the shirt you slept in before you slip out of your undies to take a shower. You decide to answer her first.

Carmilla [07:36am]: | I’m all seeing - that’s how I know  
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Carmilla [07:36am]:  | … But you’re not a bearded 60-year old dude, right?  
Carmilla [07:36am]: | If you are, I’ll kick your butt  
  
You jump in the shower after texting this. You hear your phone vibrate several times on the sink behind the shower curtain and you can’t help but smile each time. You know it’s ridiculous that this dork of a girl can make you smile like this; you hardly know her. 

Well, you actually do know quite a lot about her. You know, for instance, how her childhood was one happy memory until one fateful day when her mother was killed in a car accident (something you have a hard time coping with). You also know how her father has been over-protective of her ever since and that despite his good intentions, it’s only pushing her away from him. You know that she’s a _very_ curious and stubborn being, which suits her dream of becoming a journalist.

Most importantly, you know that she makes you smile like you haven’t for what feels like a lifetime. She makes you feel less alone; she listens to you, even when you’re in one of your moods.

And you know she’s from Styria… And a student at Silas University of all places. To be honest, you’ve strongly suspected that this entire time, what with her reblogging stuff from _the official student paper of Silas University_ (does she not realise that you stalk her blog frequently?) . Still, you can’t help but shake your head in disbelief. Karma really is a bitch.

Cupcake [07:39am]: | NOT a dude  
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Cupcake [07:39am]: | So hold off on the butt-kicking, please :)  
Cupcake [07:42am]: | Not that you could take me anyway  
Cupcake [07:43am]: | You think my dad sends me day of the week bear spray but didn’t sign me up for krav maga at age eight?  
  
You read the text messages after wrapping a towel around your newly washed body and can’t help but laugh again. The moment you found out she’s from Styria, you seriously considered breaking all ties to her, but… there’s just something about her. Even in the beginning.

Carmilla [07:54am]: | Mmh, I wouldn’t mind trying, cupcake  
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Carmilla [07:54am]: | Taking you, that is...  
  
It’s not like you intend to ever actually meet her in person, but you’ve found that you just love teasing her. It’s become a favourite pastime of yours. Still, of course you've considered it, even just considered what she looks or sounds like. You suppose that with the information that she’s a Silas student, you could easily find out, but you think it’s better this way (for everyone), so you haven’t given in to your still growing curiosity. 

“Good shower, sis?” 

You look up from your phone to find your older sister, Mattie, standing at the kitchen island; coffee in one hand and phone in the other (as per usual).

“Indeed it was…” You say, as you walk towards your room. “Aren’t you late for work?”

You drop your phone and your towel on the bed before you start rummaging through your drawers to find something to wear. Your sister raises her voice a bit so you can hear her from the kitchen. 

“Well, I _am_ the CEO of the damn thing, am I not? I can show up whenever I like.” 

You chuckle at this. Your sister always do whatever she wants. Unfortunately for you, it just so happens to be exactly what Mother wants too. Not like you who can never do anything right according to that woman. 

“Besides… what are you even doing up and about?” She asks a moment after before you hear her walking into your room. “Usually you’re barely alive before noon.”

You pull up the black, ripped jeans you’ve chosen before you walk over to your mirror and start applying some make-up, “I’ve a test on philosophy of mind at nine.”

“Exciting.” She says, but it’s clear that she doesn’t really mean it. Like mother, she’s all business and can’t understand the excitement that is life and the human mind… but at least she tries. “Will you be home for dinner?”

“Will you?” You ask, already knowing the answer, before turning around and grabbing your phone from the bed.

Cupcake [08:10am]: | CARMILLA  
---|---  
  
You smirk at her reaction. It’s too much fun riling her up and so you text back a simple _what?_. 

“Another one of your little conquests, sis?” 

You look up to find Mattie looking at you with a smirking gaze. You roll your eyes at her and put your phone in your pocket before slipping on a grey shirt. 

“Hardly.” You answer before walking past her and back in to the bathroom to blow-dry your hair. You hate leaving it wet. 

You honestly don’t mind living with your sister. Hell, it sure beats living on campus with all the other lackwits, but she can be rather… exacting… at times (especially before noon). 

“Do you need a ride to campus?” She asks you (like she always does) once you sit down at the kitchen island with a much needed cup of coffee. 

“No, thanks. I’ll walk.” You answer (like you always do). It really isn’t far. 

She sighs deeply, but doesn’t push you on it. She’s learned her lesson, you think, “Fine, but don’t come crawling to me when you’re down with pneumonia. It’s absolutely pouring outside. ”

You look over at the huge glass windows in the living area that are looking out over the streets of central Paris. It’s indeed pouring outside. 

“I’ll bring an umbrella.“ 

She rolls her eyes at you (that’s probably where you get it from), but doesn’t say anymore on the matter, “Suit yourself.” She says instead before she grabs her things and starts walking to the door, “See you later, little monster. Ta!”

Once she’s gone, you grab your phone again and shoot a quick text to Laura.

Carmilla [08:32am]: | Did I ever tell you how much I hate life before noon?  
---|---  
  
You grab your stuff and put on your leather jacket before you walk to the door. Once you reach the elevator, your phone vibrates twice. The second message makes you smile the most.

Cupcake [08:37am]: | More times than I can count  
---|---  
Cupcake [08:37am]: | Good luck on your test today x  
  
* * *

You nailed today’s test. You know you did, but that’s hardly news. Even despite your somewhat relaxed attitude when it comes to things like studying and paying attention in class, you’re still the best among the other dimwits in your year. 

“Hey there, stranger.” You hear behind you as you walk through campus on your way back to your sister’s apartment. You cringe internally. You really don’t want to deal with this right now. 

“Hey.” You simply say over your shoulder without stopping to chat any further. You hope she takes the hint. She doesn’t.

“Haven’t seen you in a while…” She says, as she catches up with you, “Or heard from you.”

You’re actually having trouble remembering her name (unsurprisingly, it isn’t the first time that’s happened), but you figure it’s most likely one of the girls who doesn’t understand the concept of casual “study buddies”. Whether it’s _girl with great boobs_ or _blonde with huge feet_ who’s been texting you lately remains to be seen. Or not. 

“Pity…” You answer disaffectedly and keep walking. Despite your confidence in the way you look (and your skills in bed), you can never quite understand why these girls insist on embarrassing themselves by making themselves available to you at every opportunity. You're not exactly known for your chivalrous behaviour, after all. Pride, people. It isn’t always all bad. 

“So…” She drawls when you cross the street outside of campus. She’s followed you this entire time and you’re starting to get annoyed (more so than before), “My roommate is out of town this weekend…”

“Is that so?” You say with a rather evident disinterested tone of voice (or so you think yourself). You already know what she wants. 

“Yeah, so I thought maybe you could come by and we could make dinner and you know… hang out?” 

You almost feel sorry for her. Almost. Mostly you just find her sort of pathetic. You rarely, if ever, find yourself interested in spending time with girls outside of the sheets. Truthfully (and without sounding too vain), none of them are a match for you, and you find yourself bored with their company about five minutes after you’ve put on your clothes. You only found that match once (and that didn’t exactly end well). 

“Listen,” You stop in your tracks and turn around fully (she’s actually not bad looking, but nothing special about her either), “I’m sure you’re a _lovely_ girl and we had a fun time, but let’s just keep it at that, shall we?”

You turn around again and think that’s that. You’ve made yourself perfectly clear this time, so there’s no possible way that she could still —

“Wait!” She says and you’re actually seconds from asking her if she was dropped on her head as a child when she adds, “Maybe we could just… have fun then?”

You can’t help the tiny smirk on your face despite the fact that her eagerness is slightly off-putting. Hell, you’re just human, right? 

“Maybe.” You say over your shoulder with a wink before walking away. You still can’t remember her name though, so you doubt you’re going to see her again. It’s not like you don’t have other options, so you’re hardly bothered. 

You don’t really feel like returning home just yet. Not because of Mattie (she won’t be home until late, like always), but despite the over-sized apartment you are living in, you often feel confined there, restless (as you’ve felt for a while now). You don’t think you’ll ever be able to settle down. 

You end up at your favourite coffee spot called _Le Loir dans la Théière_. It’s a quaint place, unknown to the countless tourists roaming the city, with funky looking furniture and posters plastered on every surface of the walls. It’s nice. 

“Hello, little broody.” The dark-haired guy behind the counter, Marcel, greets you while continuing to polish the glasses. His English is far from perfect, but you kind of like the accent. 

“Hey.” You greet him before you take a seat at your usual spot - an old tattered armchair in the corner by the counter - and take out one of the books you always carry around. 

It doesn’t take him long before he serves you your usual coffee order (black, no sugar, no milk). He smiles, as you briefly look up from your book and thanks him for the coffee, before he returns to the counter. 

You’re interrupted mid-chapter by your phone vibrating on the small table next to you.

Cupcake [01:49pm]: | How did the test go? Did you get another A? :D  
---|---  
  
You smile down at the screen. You still can’t get over how interested she always seems to be in the things you do, the things you’re passionate about. Honestly, you don’t ever remember feeling this… validated.

Carmilla [01:50pm]: | Pretty sure I did.   
---|---  
Carmilla [01:50pm]: | What have you been up to today, cupcake?  
  
You return to your book, but it’s not long before she distracts you again.

Cupcake [01:53pm]: | Of course you did, smarty-pants!  
---|---  
Cupcake [01:53pm]: | Just classes… and more studying at the library :(  
  
You can’t help but wonder if she’s studying with her TA again. You don’t know much about her, but from how Laura has talked about her, they seem to be more than just friends… something about that thought annoys you (you tell yourself it’s the fact that she’s practically her teacher that’s off-putting to you).

Carmilla[01:56pm]: | With your TA?  
---|---  
  
It’s really none of your business, you think, but you just really don’t want her to be taken advantage of. That's all.

Cupcake [01:57pm]: | Nope. Not today. Just me and good old Hester Prynne :))  
---|---  
  
You try to ignore the fact that you feel relieved. So far, so good.

Carmilla [02:00pm]: | Sounds like a party  
---|---  
  
“Always reading.” Marcel smiles, as he takes your empty mug from the table before he adds with a knowing look, “… or texting.”

You look up at him, as he returns to the counter, “It is the secret admirer, yes?”

“She’s hardly my secret admirer, Marcel.” You say before you return to your book again. 

“Whatever you say, little broody.”

You stay at the café for a few hours, switching between reading your book and texting Laura. Turns out it’s rather easy to distract her from her studies… but you already knew that. 

“Later, Marcel.” You say, as you leave a couple of euros (and a generous tip) on the table before you gather your things and put on your jacket. He waves you goodbye as you make your way outside and put in your earphones, letting Nina Simone give the city the soundtrack it deserves (Jazz is unacceptably underrated as a musical genre).

Cupcake [03:55pm]: | Are you still at the café? :)  
---|---  
Carmilla [03:59pm]: |  On my way home. How’s the studying going?  
  
You really enjoy living in Paris. More so than you expected. There’s much more life, much more history and art and music than back home. But if there’s something you’ve come to learn the past year, it’s that it isn’t the place that makes a home… it’s the people. You guess you don’t really have a home anywhere anymore.

Cupcake [04:05pm]: | I gave up - you’re too distracting  
---|---  
Cupcake [04:06pm]: |  So I’ve been thinking…  
  
You feel your heartbeat raise a bit as you read her text message. That’s never a good sign…

Carmilla [04:08pm]: | You shouldn’t strain yourself like that, cupcake  
---|---  
  
You’re perfectly aware that you’re stalling for time, trying to change the subject. You’re also aware that it won’t work.

Cupcake [04:10pm]: |  Ha ha. Very funny, Carm  
---|---  
Cupcake [04:13pm]: | What I wanted to say was - I think we should exchange pictures  
  
You’re not surprised; it’s not the first time she’s asked. Albeit, never quite as bluntly as she just did, but you’ve always managed to change the subject or talk your way around it. You figured she finally took the hint when she stopped trying, but you kind of feel as though this time is different. Like you reached a point where she wants more… or nothing at all.

Carmilla [04:15pm]: | Do you now?  
---|---  
Cupcake [04:16pm]: |  I want to know what you look like   
Cupcake [04:17pm]: | I want to know if you’re even real.. :b  
  
You don’t answer. You don’t know _what_ to answer, so you just don’t and hope that she lets it go… knowing Laura, though, she probably won’t. Not this time.

You reach the empty apartment ten minutes later. You throw your bag next to the door and slip off your jacket before throwing it on the couch and laying down yourself. You know Mattie hates it when you don’t hang it on the coat-hook, but you don’t really care. 

Laura, fortunately, hasn’t texted you again. You think she’s (im)patiently waiting for you to reply, but if you can avoid it, you will. It’s just too risky, too… close; it won’t be worth it. Not even to satisfy your own curiosity. 

After looking up into the ceiling for about five minutes, you wish you hadn’t gone home already. It’s like you can already feel the walls getting smaller, your thoughts getting louder. You sit up quickly and walk over to the glass doors by the roof terrace and slide them open. You inhale deeply when the cold autumn wind hits your face before you walk over to the edge and look out over the city. 

_This is home now_ , you think, over and over again until you can start believing it yourself.

* * *

Cupcake [07:36pm]: | Can I ask you something?  
---|---  
  
You’ve just finished dinner at the kitchen island, alone, yet again, when she texts you again. She lasted longer than you expected.

Carmilla [07:40pm]: | You just did  
---|---  
Cupcake [07:43pm]: | You know what I mean  
  
You sigh deeply, as you put down your phone on the kitchen counter before placing your plate in the dishwasher. You lean against the counter for a minute, thinking, before you push away and grab your phone again.

Carmilla [07:47pm]: |  Ask away, creampuff  
---|---  
  
You walk into your room and light a few candles with your lighter. It’s one of those rectangle ones with a custom black design spreading across the blank, silver surface. A C&E is embedded in the design. You never leave anywhere without it and you don’t even smoke anymore (you tell yourself it’s out of habit more than anything else). After lighting the candles, you pull yourself up on the windowsill with a book and pull out your phone again.

Cupcake [07:56pm]: | Why don’t you want me to know?  
---|---  
Carmilla [08:02pm]: | You know more about me than most people  
Cupcake [08:06pm]: | Likewise…  
Cupcake [08:10pm]: |  But Idk… I guess I just find it weird that I can’t put a face to all the messages, to the person I’ve come to know. Aren’t you curious yourself?  
  
_Yes_ , you think strongly. Of course you’re curious to what she looks like. Every day since you started talking you’ve tried putting a face to the girl behind the messages, and it’s so frustrating that you can’t, but… It’s better this way, you think.

Cupcake [08:23pm]: | Forget about it… I suppose it doesn’t matter anyway  
---|---  
  
She texts you again when you don’t answer her. You panic a bit. You really don’t want things to change between you, but you have a feeling that they will if you don’t give her something.

You hear your sister walk through the front door. A moment after she calls out for you, so you pocket your phone and walk out to see what she wants, “What?” 

“Well, hello to you too, sis.” She greets you while pouring herself a glass of wine (she’s looking more and more like your mother every day). 

You roll your eyes and walk over to the kitchen island where she’s standing, “Did you want something, Mattie? I’m kind of in the middle of something.”

She raises an eyebrow and looks at you amused for some reason, “I’m sure you were…” She says before refilling her glass again, “Mother called… again.”

You will yourself not to react at those words like you do every single time… but you do. You can’t ignore the way your hair stands on end, how your heartbeat quickens slightly or the way a cold chill runs down your spine. You really don’t understand why Mattie always tells you. You don’t need to know. You don’t _want_ to know. 

“She tends to do that…” You try to say, as indifferently as you can, before you sit down on the chair. 

“You refuse to take her calls, so…”

“I _don’t_ want to talk to her, Mattie.” You say firmly. You haven’t talked to your mother for at least a month now and you don’t particularly want to change that. You already know what she wants, “I thought I’d made that pretty clear.”

“Yes, well, Kitty, she’s not really giving you a choice this time…” Your sister says before downing what’s left of her wine. What did mother say to her? 

“What’s she gonna do, exactly? Jump on a plane to Paris and force me to listen to her?” You ask sarcastically, but one look at your sister tells you that _that_ is exactly what mother intends to do, “What? You're not serious.”

Mattie sighs deeply and refills her glass before answering, “I did try to warn you about ignoring her. She doesn’t usually take kindly to that.”

She takes a large drink of her wine, as if she knows what she’s talking about. You’re pretty sure she doesn’t, “So, what, you’re just gonna _allow_ her into our home? After what she did?”

“ _Our_ home, Kitty?” Your sister half-scoffs, “I’m letting you stay here _for free_ , I might add, because you are my sister and I don’t very much like to see you drown in a pit of sorrows like last year…” You can’t help but avert your eyes at that; you don’t like to think about it. “… and, you know, it’s not exactly like she’s giving me a choice either.”

You feel the all too familiar feeling of being trapped, of having your freedom stripped away from you. You get up quickly and ignore your sister calling out for you. You make a beeline for the roof terrace and step out into the cold October night, inhaling the sharp wind through your lungs. 

It doesn’t help. 

You walk over to the ledge and grab onto it hard enough to turn your knuckles white. You need to calm down. What did that useless dimwit of a therapist always tell you? Something about focusing on your surroundings… using your senses. 

_My heart is beating really fast_

No shit, Sherlock… 

_I feel like I can’t breathe_

It’s not working. You’re about to reach your breaking point when you feel the vibrations in your pocket. Not once, but twice. Your mind goes straight to Laura.

Cupcake [09:05pm]: | I’m sorry  
---|---  
Cupcake [09:05pm]: | I shouldn’t push you if you’re not ready  
  
You don’t even remember reaching for your phone in your pocket. You don’t remember your breathing start to even out or your heartbeat slowing down.

Cupcake [09:07pm]: |  Forgive me? :)  
---|---  
  
You end up pressing dial.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the support thus far, fellow creampuffs. I'm quite overwhelmed by the support and encouraging words. I'm thinking about either updating once a week or once every second week... whereas the latter is probably the most realistic, but we can go for ambitious and switch to realistic if it comes to that, I guess. 
> 
> Also, I'm kind of on the lookout for an artist who'd be interested in helping me out with something for future chapters - know any who'd be interested?


	3. Too Close For Comfort

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Carmilla and Laura finally have their first real conversation that might reveal more than Carmilla is ready for. Laura also heads to Kirsch's hockey game, but something isn't quite as it should be (at least according to Kirsch).

You stare at your phone, frozen, as you watch Carmilla’s caller ID flash across the screen. 

Surely this is a mistake, right? Like, a butt call or something? You panic. What if it isn’t? What if she’s like honest to God _actually_ calling you right now and you’re just sitting there, staring at your phone like a dork. 

Your phone goes quiet. You panic even more. Did you actually just miss her call because you were too busy overanalysing said call??

You nearly drop your phone in your desperate attempt at calling her back. 

“ _Cupcake…_ ” A raspy, low voice sighs, almost relieved, into the phone, (you can’t stop the warm chill from running down your spine when you hear it), “ _For a moment there I thought you ignored my call._ ”

You _try_ to speak, but for some reason, you’re not doing a very good job. Your rapid heartbeat is kind of distracting, to put it mildly, “No, I… I wasn’t… I mean, I didn’t… You…”

“ _Are you always this articulate, sweetheart?_ ” You hear the smile in her voice. 

“Hi!“ You manage to sort of blurt out as you start pacing your room restlessly. 

“ _Hey…_ ”

She doesn’t speak again, but you’re not quite sure what to say. You didn’t expect her to call you. You didn’t expect her to suddenly be so _real_ … and you certainly didn’t expect her voice to be this… attractive. 

“So… How… are you these days?” 

You can’t believe how awkward you’re being. At this rate she’ll probably hang up before you have a chance to have an actual conversation. 

“ _Cupcake… relax,_ ” She chuckles. You decide that you _really_ like that sound. “ _It’s just me._ ”

She’s right, of course. It’s _just_ Carmilla. The same Carmilla you’ve been talking to 24/7 for the past two months or so, give or take. Of course, that was on text, or email, or something that didn’t require speaking whilst listening to that oddly alluring voice of hers…

“ _Laura._ ” She interrupts your train of thought before you realise you forgot to answer her (and is that how your name sounds coming from her lips? Because… wow), “ _I can practically hear your mind spinning all the way from Paris._ ”

“Right… Sorry.” You apologise, but you feel yourself relax a bit and manage to stop pacing a hole in your floor as you sit down on your bed again, “It’s just… It’s really weird to finally hear your voice.”

“ _Good weird or bad weird?_ ”

“Mmh… I haven’t decided yet.” You say with a big smile on your face. You’re pretty sure she can hear it through the phone though. 

“ _Really? Is that so?_ ” She drawls in a low voice that makes your insides act all kinds of funny. God, that voice…

You try to say something, but all that comes out are half-words and strange sounds. It makes her chuckle again, “Carm!” You exclaim, but you can’t help but laugh.

“ _What?_ ” She asks, not as innocently as she’d like to think. She knows exactly what she’s doing. You’re about to call her out on it when you notice the sharp wind in the background. 

“Wait, where are you?” You ask confused instead. 

She sniffles before answering, “ _Paris. Didn’t we already go over this, pop tart?_ ” 

You roll your eyes at her, “No, like, I can hear your teeth clattering through the phone, Carm.”

“ _Oh._ ” She exclaims surprised, “ _I just… went for a walk. Sort of._ ”

“And you forgot to bring a jacket?” You question sceptically. 

“ _Is this your way of asking what I’m wearing right now, creampuff? Because I might be into that._ ” She says with a suggestive tone of voice, but something’s a bit off about it. You can’t pinpoint what exactly, but that’s when you realise she’s the one who called _you_ and you don’t actually know why (not that you’re complaining).

You ignore her flirtatious question (something tells you she’s trying to deflect the attention away from her) and decide to be blunt about it, “Carm… why did you call?” You realise she might misunderstand, so you quickly add, “I mean, not that I’m complaining, but why now?”

A few moments pass before she answers in a tone of voice you haven’t heard before, but it’s still oddly familiar. It’s kind of… quiet… and pensive, “ _Do I need a reason for calling? Maybe… Maybe I just wanted to hear your voice, finally._ ”

As sweet as it is, you don’t really believe her. Not after your earlier failed attempts to take your virtual relationship a step further… Then again, maybe she just wasn’t ready then. Yet, something tells you that isn’t what this is about.

“Hey… are you okay?” You finally ask softly.

“ _Yeah, I’m fine…_ ” She answers a bit too quickly. You have a feeling she’s really not.

“Because you sound… broody.”

She takes her time answering, almost like she’s trying to decide something, but despite the journalist in you wanting an answer, you somehow know you have to be patient with her. 

“ _I’m just thinking about things._ ” She finally reveals quietly. 

“Did something happen?” You ask softly as you lay down your entire body on your bed, giving her your undivided attention. 

Another few moments pass, “ _My… mother… she’s decided to fly all the way to Paris just to speak with me._ ”

You know they haven’t spoken in a while (not for a lack of trying on her mother’s part). You’re not sure if anything new happened between them, but you don’t blame her for not wanting to speak with her regardless. Carmilla has told you enough stories about her mother for you to think that. 

She’s told you, for instance, how controlling she was when Carmilla was growing up; how she would _literally_ pick and choose who Carmilla was allowed to be friends with and how she was rarely, if ever, allowed to have friends over or participate in any kind of extra curricular. She was more or less confined to the walls of the big mansion her mother called home. Her mother even went as far as choosing not only the college she was to attend, but her major as well. 

Later, when Carmilla turned 18, she moved out as soon as she could and when she started college, she changed her major to philosophy, embraced her sexuality in public and pretty much did everything she could to defy her mother, starting a war that escalated some time a few years ago. You’re still not sure what happened though. 

“I’m sorry, Carm… ” You say genuinely despite the fact that you don’t really know what’s going on right now, but you just can’t imagine growing up with a mother like that (though you have no trouble imagining growing up without one altogether), “I wish I could do something or — Wait…” You interrupt yourself and sit up in bed as you realise something, “Does your mother not _live_ in Paris with you?” You ask confused. You’re met with nothing but silence on the other end apart from the wind in the background, “Carm?”

“ _No… she doesn’t._ ” She finally answers you, although quite reluctantly, you think. 

“Oh…” You exclaim kind of surprised, “So… you’re not actually from Paris?”

Her answer is short and to the point, “ _No._ ” 

You’re perfectly aware that her guard is up now. Apparently this is one of the things about her that you’ve picked up on while messaging back and forth without really noticing it. Still, you can’t help your curiosity, “Where are you from then?”

“ _Does it matter?_ ”

“I guess not…” You say quietly. There’s a sharpness, an edge, to her voice that tells you not to push it, but you don’t let it scare you, “Have you lived in Paris long?”

“ _A while, yes…_ ” She reveals with a deep sigh before she adds, “ _Listen, can you hold on for a second, cupcake? I’m freezing my ass off out here._ ”

You know she’s probably just trying to change the subject, but you still can’t help but chuckle quietly, “Sure.” You say as you listen to her move around and what you think is a door sliding open. Not exactly a long walk then… 

You decide to plug in your headset before you get up from your bed to make some hot cocoa while you wait. Betty, your roommate, hasn’t showed yet, which, despite the late hour, isn’t exactly out of the ordinary. Sometimes you feel like you don’t have a roommate at all… 

You’re in the middle of pouring four teaspoons of cocoa powder (+ two extra for good luck) into your Doctor Who TARDIS mug, when you suddenly make out faint voices on the other end of the line.

“ _Have you calmed down yet, darling?_ ” A female voice a lot lighter than Carmilla’s says. You kind of expect Carmilla to snap at her, but oddly enough, she doesn’t. 

“ _Look, I’m sorry, okay?_ ” Carmilla says instead, affection clear in her voice even though she’s still a bit defensive, “ _I know it’s not your fault. I… I shouldn’t have taken it out on you._ ”

“ _True…_ ” The other voice agrees, but it changes into one of affection too, “ _But despite what I said this is as much your home as it is mine. I do hope you know that._ ”

“ _I know…_ ” Carmilla says and you can almost hear the small smile in her voice, “ _Anyway, I’m off to bed. Sleep tight._ ”

“ _Good night, little monster._ ” 

You’re not quite sure what to make of the exchange you just overheard. You’ve been under the impression that Carmilla lived alone… that she was single… but if you have learned anything tonight, it’s that you don’t know as much about her as you thought you did. 

You’re back in your bed, sipping your cocoa while scrolling through your Tumblr dashboard, when she finally returns.

“ _Sorry about that, buttercup… You still there?_ ”

You ignore her question with one of your own, “Who was that?” (Smooth, Hollis… Just smooth.)

“ _You heard that?_ ” She asks surprised, if not a bit embarrassed. 

You try not to feel too bad about listening in on their conversation, “Yeah, well, you didn’t mute your mic, so, you know…” You kind of mumble awkwardly, “I thought you lived alone…”

You try not to think about how that last sentence must’ve sounded… heavy with meaning, probably. 

She takes her time answering again (she tends to do that, you notice, like she always thinks before she acts), “ _It’s just Mattie…_ ” She says like the name is supposed to mean something to you, “ _My sister._ ”

“Oh… “ You exclaim surprised. You also hadn’t noticed you were kind of holding your breath, but you conveniently ignore that, “You have a sister?”

“ _I do_ ”

“And you live with her?”

“ _Indeed._ ”

You frown at this new information, “Why didn’t I know this?”

It’s not like you think you have some sort of right to know these things about her, but you just feel odd that she’s never told you. Is this not the kind of information you normally share when you first get to know someone? 

“ _There are a lot of things you don’t know about me, cupcake…_ ” She answers vaguely, but it’s the next words that hits you hardest for some reason, “ _Maybe I’d like to keep it that way._ ”

You grow quiet at that and she doesn’t add anything else. You decide to break it with the thoughts on your mind. You’ve always been honest with her - why stop now?

“You pretty much know everything there is to know about me.”

“ _I sincerely doubt that._ ” She says immediately, and you get the feeling that she genuinely thinks there are lots to know about you still… that she actually _wants_ to know these things. Still, you can’t help but think it’s unfair that she’s allowed to learn all of these things about you, but not the other way around.

“ _I have a brother too._ ” Carmilla kind of blurts out, breaking the silence this time, almost as if she knew what you were thinking. 

You’re still kind of pensive about what she said about not wanting you to fully know her, but you can’t help your interest when she offers the information freely for once, “Yeah? Does he live with you in Paris?” 

“ _No… He’s… He’s back home._ ” 

You can tell the conversation is starting to make her uncomfortable again. You don’t pretend to understand why she’s so reluctant about letting you get to know her, but you won’t force her either… not tonight, anyway. 

“Okay…” You say before letting it go and return to the actual point of the conversation, “Carm, about your mother —”

“ _We really don’t have to talk about that._ ”

“Isn’t that why you called?”

“ _I don’t know._ ” She answers quietly, before adding after a beat, “ _Maybe I just want to talk to you for now…_ ”

“I think I can manage that…” You say softly, knowing she just wants you to distract her right now, “It’s kind of nice to finally confirm that you are, in fact, not an old, creepy dude… with a beard.”

She lets out a full on laugh at that and you feel like you’ve just heard all the world’s greatest symphonies wrapped into a single heart-skipping one (you know you’ll always be able to make out that laugh anywhere), “ _You were honestly still unsure about that?_ ”

“Well, you never know with the Internet.” You try to defend yourself. 

“ _Hm, I suppose I could still be an old, creepy lady… with a beard._ ” 

It’s your turn to laugh. As true as it may be, you sincerely doubt it. 

You continue to talk and joke around for a long while after. You’re surprised at how easy it is to talk to her, even on the phone. You talk a lot about your dreams for the future (well, you do, Carmilla doesn’t know what she wants yet, but you discuss that too). You also talk about her relationship to her siblings (both now and growing up) and about you reaching out to your dad after the fight you had. 

It’s all just… completely natural. 

“It’s like… past midnight.” You suddenly say after having looked at the time, “We’ve been at this for three hours. ”

“ _I’d say that’s pretty impressive…_ ” She answers, almost proudly, before her voice changes into something that sound almost content, “ _I like listening to your voice. It’s calming._ ”

“Likewise…” You say, though you’re not sure ‘calming’ is the first word you’d use to describe her voice… maybe the second, or third word, “We should probably, you know, call it a night though… ”

“ _Yeah… Probably._ ” She sort of agrees, but neither of you make a move to hang up. For a while you just listen to each other breathing. The sound of her calm breathing, however, is definitely having a calming effect on you and before long you find yourself getting sleepy. 

“Carm?” You ask suddenly, your eyes shut as you try and fail to imagine her in her own bed somewhere in Paris. 

“ _Yes?_ ” She asks, a lot more awake than you, you notice. 

“I want to put a face to your voice.”

You don’t really know where that came from. It was on your mind (had been for quite a while), but you’re not sure you were actually planning on saying it. It’ s too late to take it back though. 

You’re met with silence again, but you know now that’s just what she does, “ _I know…_ ” She finally says, something resembling a mix of dejection and yearning in her voice. You’re sure she’s about to add something when she simply says, “ _Sweet dreams, cupcake._ ”

And then she hangs up.

* * *

“And then she just hung up?”

You’re standing in line at your preferred coffee shop with LaF after today’s classes. You’ve just told them about your late night phone call with Carmilla last night (to a point, anyway). You don’t usually talk to them about it, but you’re at a point where you’re honestly at a loss. 

“Yeah…” You answer before you place both of your orders and walk further down the counter to wait for your cocoa (you don’t really like coffee), “That’s weird, right?”

“I’d say…” LaF answers with a slight frown, “Have you talked to her at all today?”

You grab the to-go-cup the barista is handing you before you answer, “No… She didn’t text me good morning as she usually does…” You roll your eyes at the look LaF is sending you, “I figured she needed space.”

“Yeah… Question is why.” LaF ponders out loud as you walk out of the shop and starts walking towards the ice rink where you’re meeting Perry (and quite possibly Danny) to watch Kirsch’s hockey game, “Hey! Maybe she’s been part of one of those cool experiments where you end up all mutated and Frankenstein-like and that’s why she doesn’t want you to see her.”

You glance over at your friend with a bewildered frown. They’re looking a bit too enthusiastic about that theory, but you can’t help the small smile forming on your lips, “Yeah… I don’t think that’s it LaF, but, you know, A for effort there.”

LaF simply shrugs before you cross the street outside of the rink, “But, you know… maybe it’s not _that_ far off.” They continue, making you raise an amused eyebrow at them, “I don’t know, maybe she’s just insecure about how she looks.”

You think it over for a moment. You don’t want to assume anything (it’s the Internet, after all), but Carmilla has always had this confidence about her, even through text. It could be for show, of course, but you doubt insecurity is the reason for her not wanting you to see her. 

“Yeah… maybe.” You answer thoughtfully anyway. What do you actually know, right? It’s just a feeling. 

You walk through the doors to the ice rink and you internally curse Kirsch for not having chosen an indoor sport where it’s actually _warm_ inside. You push away the thought though, as you watch him wave at you with a big, goofy smile like the big puppy he is. You can’t help but laugh as you wave back. 

“You know… I never really got that.”

“Got what?” You ask distractedly as you scout the bleachers for a red head (you tell yourself it’s Perry you’re looking for). 

“You and Kirsch.” LaF elaborates, “Don’t get me wrong, I adore the puppy, I just don’t understand how _that_ friendship happened.”

Your friendship with Kirsch is one that you have yet to fully understand yourself. It’s relatively new and just kind of happened without you really noticing. You’re glad to have him in your life though. Loyalty like his is something you value greatly and he can _always_ make you feel better on your off days.

“I, uh… I helped him with his Beowulf reading.” You answer vaguely when you finally spot Danny (you weren’t actually looking for her, of course), “Look, there’s Danny!” You exclaim excitedly and ignore the smirk LaF is currently wearing on their face, “Why don’t you go get Perry and we’ll go sit, you know, over there?”

LaF keeps smirking at you, but you refuse to acknowledge it (are you not allowed to be excited to see your lit TA who also happens to be your _friend_?), “Okay, _fine_ ,” They finally say when they don’t get a reaction from you, “We’ll find you in a bit, yeah?”

You nod in agreement and make your way over to Danny. She’s sitting with some of the other Summer girls, which makes you a bit anxious, but you try to ignore it. 

“Hey, Danny…” You smile embarrassedly. Why are you suddenly embarrassed? 

“Hollis!” She smiles broadly, as she grabs her jacket next to her to make room for you, “Take a seat.”

“Thanks.” You smile back and take a seat next to her. You move some of your hair behind your ear nervously, as you think of something to say… _anything_.

“How’s your Scarlet Letter assignment coming along?” Danny finally asks you softly. You have a feeling she can sense your nervousness. 

“Good.” You nod slowly, “I think I’ve a few ideas for the article for my journalism class, but I still need to find the actual story, you know?”

Danny nods along in acknowledgement, “I’m glad I could help.” She smiles (you don’t tell her that it was actually your cyberspace pen-pal, Carmilla, who finally got through to you). 

“Me too.” You smile instead and again try to come up with something else to say without sounding too awkward… “So, you’re here to see Kirsch then?” (Internal face palm). 

She merely smiles at you amused, “Yeah, though I don’t know how he ever convinced me to come. Sometimes I think he’s under the impression that I’m a cheery person.”

You can’t help but laugh; mostly because you know _exactly_ how Kirsch managed to convince her. It probably consisted of a lot of pleases and puppy dog eyes on his part. 

You finally feel more relaxed in her company and you’re about to ask her about her own studies when LaF and Perry joins you (great timing there, peeps). 

“Hey, guys!” LaF greets you, “Sorry it took so long, but _someone_ refused to use the public toilet before having disinfected the entire bathroom.”

“It was _unsanitary_ , LaFontaine.” Perry defends herself with a huff, as they both sit down next to you. 

“I have to agree with, Perry.” Danny says with a revulsed expression, “It’s pretty disgusting.”

“Thank you!” Perry throws her hands up exasperated. 

You all can’t help but laugh (apart from Perry) as the referee blows their whistle and indicates the start of the game. For the next hour and a half, you manage not to think of the mystery girl residing somewhere in Paris.

* * *

They lose the game. Big time. It’s not a surprise though, Kirsch’s team is _really_ bad, but you still agree to go to your regular hangout place at the diner with the others and the rest of the team afterwards to cheer him up (he always thinks they’re gonna win). 

“It… it wasn’t _that_ bad.” You say to a defeated Kirsch in an attempt to cheer him up. Danny (not very subtly) hides a scoff behind a fake-cough, making you glance at her with a pointed look. 

“It’s okay, little hottie… I know it was.” Kirsch says with a deep sigh, “I guess I just can’t play well without my lucky charm.”

“Ugh, not this again.” Danny groans annoyed. 

“What?” You ask half-confused, half-curious. Kirsch is about to answer, but Danny beats him to it. 

“Oh, nothing. It’s just, Kirsch here is convinced that the reason he plays like a small kindergartener is because his ex-bestie, Elvira, mistress of the snark, isn’t around anymore.”

You only know little of the girl they speak of. You know that she and Kirsch used to be really close until she left Styria without as much as a good bye (you only transferred to Silas a little over a year ago, so you weren’t around when it happened). He never wants to speak about it though, so you don’t push him to. Danny doesn’t seem too fond of her, you notice. 

“I always used to play well when she was at my games…” Kirsch says quietly. It’s only then you really realise how much pain this girl must have caused him. Suddenly you’re not too fond of her either. 

“Oh, please, she either sat around looking bored or yelled at you how much you sucked.” Danny rolls her eyes. Well, she sounds like a _lovely_ girl. 

“She’s really not as bad as you make her out to be.” Kirsch defends her, but it sounds kind of half-heartedly. You can’t help but feel sorry for him, whatever happened. 

“Does it matter?” One of the other guys on Kirsch’ team suddenly snaps, making you all glance in his direction, “She’s gone and she’s _not_ coming back.”

He grabs his things then and stands up abruptly before he all but storms out of the diner. 

“A… scorned lover?” You ask after you watch him leave. 

“Her brother.” Kirsch simply explains, his eyes on the door his teammate just stormed out of. You don’t ask anymore about it, it’s not your place to pry open old wounds.

The conversation quickly turns to the annual Zeta party you’re all attending this weekend, but it’s no longer enough to distract you. You check your phone in hopes that maybe she texted you during the game. You try to ignore the way your heart sinks when you realise she hasn’t.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you liked what you've read so far, you're more than welcome to hit that tiny little heart down there in the right corner and feel free to leave a comment should you have any. 
> 
> You can also find me on Tumblr - [howtowasteamoment](http://www.howtowasteamoment.tumblr.com)
> 
> Update schedule: Every Sunday until further notice (as in until I hit the next writer's block, probably...)


	4. Your Heart Is An Empty Room

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Carmilla is having difficulty detaching herself from Laura despite her best efforts. She also can't help but compare her life in Paris to the life she was living in Styria. Meanwhile, Laura has a theory on why Carmilla is so adamant about exchanging pictures.

You can’t believe they lost _again_. What is that oversized puppy doing out on the ice? Figure skating? 

You slam your laptop shut with an annoyed groan. You followed the live game score on Silas’ website (like you always do), but you were greatly disappointed (like you always are). You don’t know why you even bother. You never cared for it much when you were actually present at the games, so why you continually insist on wasting your time checking the score whenever there’s a game is beyond you. 

You grab your phone again for the hundredth time today and turn it around in your hand absentmindedly while looking out of the window from your seat on the windowsill. Your mind takes you back to last night’s phone call… to the sound of Laura’s voice. 

_I want to put a face to your voice_.

You don’t regret calling her, as spontaneous as it was. Hearing her voice was like listening to the world’s light speak, if it could do such a thing. Her voice was so soft, like a thousand feathers; you could _hear_ her kindness in it. It was so calming to you that you forgot the reason you called her in the first place. 

Ugh, but you should’ve never revealed so much about yourself. It was a stupid thing to do. The more she knows about you, the bigger the chance is that she’ll eventually find out who you are (you know how people likes to talk at Silas). And by then… well, by then she’ll want nothing to do with you, probably. 

Still, you can’t deny the fact that despite every instinct to the contrary you feel closer to her after hearing her voice. That’s a ridiculous thought, isn’t it? Ridiculous or not though, she’s been on your mind all day and you’ve had to literally stop yourself several times from texting her whenever something happens or when something simply crosses your mind. 

You shake your head at yourself. God, what are you doing? Why are you obsessing over this curious, over-excited girl whom you’ve never even seen, let alone met? This is exactly why you didn’t text her this morning, you have to prove to yourself you aren’t growing attached to her (you ignore the fact that it isn’t exactly going as hoped). 

You almost fall down from the windowsill when your phone (still in your hand) rings out with your message tone (you ignore how your heart sinks when you realise it’s not _her_ ). 

Girl from party [07:13pm]: | hey u, wanna come over later? xxx  
---|---  
  
Girl from party? Seriously? You couldn’t have come up with something better? Then again, if that’s your description of her, she probably wasn’t anything special (no offence to the girl, of course. You’re sure she’s lovely). 

You ignore the text and jump down from the windowsill before you make your way out to the living room. Mattie still hasn’t showed, but you didn’t think she would have.

You open the fridge and stare into it with a blank expression. You’re not even hungry; you’re just bored out of your mind. You suppose you could head down to the café and read a book or beat Marcel at a card game, but you’re not really feeling it tonight. 

It’s not like you don’t have any friends in Paris… per se. People in your class have surely _tried_ to befriend you the past year, but despite showing up at a party here and there, you keep to yourself. Then there’s your occasional “study buddies” and the barista a your favourite café, but it’s probably bit of a stretch to consider them _friends_.

You used to have friends though, back in Styria. Well, you had _two_ you considered to be your friends (apart from your brother). The rest was just… people. People that, albeit, knew an awful lot about you, but no one ever really knew you, apart from those two. Who cares anyway… you’re better off on your own. 

You nearly have a heart attack when a particular intense piece of _Inferno_ from Dante Symphony rings out loudly in the kitchen. 

“Goddammit!” You curse out loud as you try to steady your heartbeat with a hand on your chest. 

You know what the ringtone means before you even grab your phone from the counter (you added it specially for her contact ID, after all). 

_**Mother**_  
_Slide to answer_

Not likely, you think, as you ignore the call instead. You don’t get why she insists on trying to call you when she’s perfectly aware that you’re not going to pick up. You’re on your way back to your room with a can of grape soda when she calls again. This time, after spilling grape soda all over yourself, you put the damn thing on silent. 

You decide to distract yourself from your boredom with a book. You’re already done with this year’s reading list (you finished it years ago, to be honest), so you choose one of Kierkegaard’s works for some light reading. 

About a half hour later you’re interrupted by your phone, yet again. This time, however, it’s not your mother. It’s your sister. 

“Yes?” You more or less snap into the phone. The fact that your mother and sister calls within an hour of each other is hardly a coincidence. Nothing ever is in your life. 

“ _Would it kill you to pick up the phone just once in a while when Mother calls, Carmilla? I do not have the time to play messenger between the two of you. Believe it or not, I do have other matters to attend to._ ”

You sigh deeply into the phone. You don’t even bother acknowledging what she just said, “What did she want this time?” You ask before you add sarcastically, “Wait, don’t tell me. She is no longer happy with just having _two_ kidneys, so now she wants one of mine too… ”

“ _Carmilla…_ ” Your sister sighs tiredly. 

“Oh, she wants both of them? Well, who am I to decline her of —”

“ _Carmilla! Enough._ ” Your sister interrupts you harshly, “ _It’s late, I’ve been working all day and I do not have the mental capacity to deal with this right now._ ”

You remain quiet, but roll your eyes regardless of the fact that she can’t see you. 

“ _Mother is giving you one last chance. Call her back or she’ll be on a plane to Paris first thing next week._ ” Mattie tells you as a matter of fact, “ _Do what you want._ ”

She hangs up immediately. 

You know it won’t matter if you call back your mother or not. She’ll still come, because you’ll still give her the same answer to the same demand she’s been throwing at you for months now. At least if you refuse to call her back, that’s another demand you won’t give in to.

Still, the thought of seeing her again… the thought of having her in close proximity is more suffocating than you’d like to admit, but you can’t ignore it. It’s like you can already feel your control, your freedom and independence slip away between your fingers at the mere thought of being face to face with her again. 

Your heartbeat is already beating rapidly. You didn’t even notice until now. When did you get trouble breathing? You’re well aware that this is how people suffering from claustrophobia feel, but feeling claustrophobic in your own skin? What a ridiculous thought. 

You need to get out of here, out of this apartment. Your first thought is to call Laura (strangely enough) but you somehow manage to push the thought aside. You _can’t_ get attached to her. You can’t depend on _her_ or _anyone_. No one but yourself. 

You remember the girl who texted you earlier. It’s as good a distraction as any, isn’t it? You’re already out of the door before you text her back. 

Carmilla [08:56pm]: | Address? |   
---|---|---  
  
* * *

It’s past midnight. You tread lightly around the dark room you find yourself in and try to gather your stuff from the floor without making too much noise. You look over at the bed at the naked girl sleeping there. You still don’t know her actual name.

You manage to find your shoes somewhere in the hallway, but you decide to put them on outside. You close the front door behind you as quietly as you can, shoes in hand, and make your way down the stairs of the apartment building. Once outside, barefoot, and the cold October night hits your previously warm body, you barely feel it. You realise then that you don’t actually feel anything at all. 

There was a time not long ago when you would’ve gladly taken this… numbness, above anything else, but lately you’ve been feeling… less lonely, less… empty. You know the reason for this. 

You start walking down the street. You don’t bother with the shoes yet, or a taxi for that matter. You ignore the stare of the few people who walk past you and instead you take out your phone. No messages. Not even Mattie asking where you are, if you’re okay (not that you care… much). 

You look up at the sky. No stars. That’s one of the things you miss most about home… the stars. They always comfort you, but here in the City of Light, you barely ever see them. Ironic, isn't it? 

You don’t know what you’re doing before you’ve pushed the dial button and it’s too late to stop yourself (that’s what you tell yourself anyway). 

“ _Carm?_ ” Laura asks with the most adorable sleepy voice (it’s actually kind of sexy) when she answers on the fourth ring, “ _Are you okay? It’s like one in the morning…_ ”

You don’t really know what to say, barely even know why you called. You just wanted to hear her voice and feel that calm sense it brought you the other night. 

“Did I wake you, cupcake?” You ask quietly, even though it’s pretty obvious that you did. 

“ _What? Um, no. I’m… awake._ ” She answers, but it probably would’ve been more convincing if she hadn’t yawned in the middle of the sentence, “ _What’s wrong?_ ”

You’re more or less in _awe_ that this girl you barely know, that you’ve never even met, cares enough to be there for you despite the fact that you woke her up in the middle of the night. Who _is_ this girl?

“Why would there be anything wrong?” You ask, if only to stall for time. 

“ _Normal people don’t call other people past midnight just to chitchat, Carm._ ”

You can’t help but chuckle at this. You also really like the way she shortens your name. Strange, you usually can’t stand it when someone else does it. 

“You may be right about that, sweetheart.” You smile into the phone. You also suddenly notice how freezing cold you are. 

“ _So?_ ” She says a moment after. 

“So, what?” You ask back, as you try to wave down a passing cab, but the idiot drives past you. You really would rather walk, but you just want to get home already, so you have to suck it up. 

“ _So what’s wrong then?_ ” She asks again softly.

You try again with another cab and this time you’re in luck, “Maybe I’m just not a normal person, creampuff, ever think of that?” You say while getting in the cab. You turn your phone slightly away from your mouth and tell your driver your address in fluent french. 

“ _Okay, where are you this time?_ ” Laura asks confused, but clearly intrigued. 

“Still in Paris, cupcake.” 

“ _Ugh, you know what I mean, Carm._ ” She bites back. 

You laugh out loud (much to the annoyance of your cabdriver). God, you love riling up this girl, “I’m on my way home…“ You say, just as the cab makes a sharp turn and you have to hold on to dear life, “Though I’m not sure I’ll ever get there _in one piece_.” You snap a little louder with a glare in the driver’s direction. Is he actually trying to kill you? 

The cabdriver simply squints his eyes at you suspiciously through the rearview mirror (his english is probably not the best). 

“God, I hate driving.” You say more to yourself than anyone else. 

“ _Why do you hate driving?_ ” Laura asks curiously. 

“I… just prefer walking.” You say, perhaps a bit vaguely, before you change the subject and ask what she did today. 

Laura tells you that she went to a hockey game to support one of her friends who play on the Silas Hockey team (you try not to think about your earlier thought on coincidences). Apparently they lost big time (but you already knew that). 

“Hold on, cutie.” You pay for the cab in cash when it arrives (barely) in front of your apartment building (he’s obviously not getting a tip), “Alright, where were we?” You ask as you walk inside the building, your shoes still in hand. 

“ _You know, you keep calling me that, but how do you know?_ ”

“What?” You ask confused as you push the elevator button. You would’ve opted for the stairs if your sister’s apartment didn’t happen to be the penthouse. 

“ _Cutie._ ” She elaborates, and yawns (yet again) before she adds, “ _You don’t know if I’m cute._ ”

She’s smooth, you’ll give her that. It doesn’t mean you don’t know where this conversation is suddenly headed though. 

“Actually, the word _cute_ originates from the early 18th century as a shortened form of _acute_ , which originally meant clever or shrewd…” 

The elevator dings and you step inside when the doors open. 

“ _Why do you do that?_ ”

“Do what?”

“ _Change the subject. Like when you hung up last night._ ”

Note to self: Laura is exceptionally blunt when she’s tired… or when she’s on a mission. 

“That’s not exactly what —”

“ _Honestly, Carm, if you’re insecure about the way you look, just tell me._ ” She yawns again, “ _I only care about what’s on the inside._ ”

You can’t help but chuckle at this girl. Honestly, she’s too adorable. Too bad she’s really got that backwards. 

“Cute.” You say, deliberately using that word again, as you lock yourself inside the apartment, “But, trust me, sweetheart, I’m more than satisfied with the way I look, thank you very much. I’m pretty sure you would be too.”

You only realise too late what you actually just said. Goddammit. 

“ _Well, I would be more than happy to burst that apparent humongous ego of yours_.” She retorts, and you really wish you could imagine her rolling her eyes at you (you’re sure she’s doing it), “ _And in case you were wondering, I’m perfectly happy with the way I look too. All 5’2” of me._ ”

“5’2”?” You laugh while throwing your shoes somewhere, as you try, but fail (yet again) at imagining a tiny Laura. You’re really starting to get annoyed with that. 

“ _What’s wrong with that? It’s a perfectly acceptable height._ ” She tries to defend herself, “ _How tall are you?_ ”

“Taller than you, cupcake.” You smirk into the phone knowing fully well that you’re all but an inch taller than her. You throw your jacket on the couch before walking to your room. 

“ _… and how tall is that?_ ” 

“That’s for me to know…” You say mysteriously as you pull yourself up on the windowsill, the phone balancing between your ear and shoulder. 

“ _And for me to find out?_ ” Laura asks, not missing a beat. Damn, she’s good. 

“You’re good, I’ll give you that.” You praise her, and you can’t help the smile forming on your face. 

“ _I_ am _a journalism major, after all._ ”

You think for a second before you decide what to say next, “I’m 5’3”” You finally reveal. 

“ _That’s barely taller than me!_ ” She exclaims, almost offended. It makes you laugh again, “ _But, you know, like I said - perfectly acceptable height._ ”

“Perfectly acceptable height…” You repeat with a small smile when you hear her yawn again. You’re selfish to keep her awake, you know that, and so you add, “Maybe you should go back to sleep, creampuff. I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“ _What? Why?_ ” She almost whines, making your smile grow, “ _But I’m not even tired._ ” She ends that last sentence with another yawn. 

“Almost had me convinced there, pop tart.” 

“ _Please, Carm,_ ” She pleads with you, “ _It was just getting interesting._ ”

You can’t help but chuckle at her enthusiasm before you deliberately lower your voice slightly, “Interesting, really? How so?”

You hear her draw in a small, shaky breath before she exhales deeply, “ _I… I’m getting a clearer picture of how you look like…_ ”

Not exactly what you had in mind.

“You and I have very different opinions on what’s considered interesting, cupcake.” You answer evenly, “Now, if you were to tell me what you’re wearing right now, _that_ would be interesting.”

“ _Carm!_ ” She scolds you, “ _You’re unbelievable._ ” You hear the amused tone in her voice though, so you’re not bothered. At least not until she adds, “ _Besides, it wouldn’t matter if I did. You couldn’t imagine me in my sexy Doctor Who t-shirt anyway because you don’t know what I look like… You could be absolutely disgusted with the way I look and not even know it._ ”

You _are_ however awfully bothered by that comment for some reason and you don’t intend on letting it go, “You really think I’m like that? That I’m so shallow that I only give a damn about looks and not what’s on the inside?”

“ _That’s… not exactly what I meant._ ” She answers quietly. 

Your reply is slightly harsher than you mean to, “Then what did you mean?” 

“ _I just… it’s stupid._ ”

“Tell me anyway.”

She only waits a moment before she starts rambling, “ _I just thought that maybe that’s why you don’t want to exchange pictures or whatever… You say you’re not insecure about the way you look, but maybe you’re really just worried about the way_ I _look and if I’m not what you imagined. Maybe you don’t want to be disappointed._ ”

It’s out before you can stop it, “You’re an idiot.” 

“ _Excuse me?_ ” She says, kind of shocked, kind of confused. 

“Sorry… I just…” You try to explain as you run a frustrated hand through your hair, “That’s not it at all, Laura. Don’t even think that.”

“ _Why is it such an issue then?_ ” 

“I don’t know. It just is, okay?” You snap harshly at her. You don’t mean to, exactly, but why does she have to be this stubborn about it? Can’t she just let it go?

“ _Fine… It’s just really weird talking to someone every day and literally not know if they have a pineapple for a head._ ”

You lose your patience with her. 

“Oh, for the love of God… I’m 5’3”; kind of slender; I have long, black, wavy hair; dark brown eyes; my eyebrow game is on point and my wardrobe mainly consists of black and leathery items. ” You rant annoyed rather quickly, “Satisfied?”

She doesn’t answer you, but you can hear her breathing on the other end, so you know she’s still there. Maybe she fell asleep, the little dork. 

“Laura?”

“ _Your eyebrow game is on point, huh?_ ” She finally asks amused, making you chuckle. 

“On point.” You repeat smiling.

“ _Well, now I pretty much_ have _to see you then._ ” She says amused, but even though she’s joking, you still can’t help but deflate a little. 

“Laura…” You say quietly, almost apologetically at this point. 

“ _I know._ ” She yawns before you have a chance to say anything else, “ _I won’t push you if you’re not ready - for whatever reason that is._ ”

“Thank you.” Is all you say. You’re not sure you’ll ever be ready. 

“ _You’re welcome._ ” She yawns sleepily again. She might be blunt when she’s sleepy, but she’s just as adorable. 

“Now, off to bed, buttercup. It’s _way_ past your bedtime.” You smile fondly. 

“ _You’re only an inch taller than me…_ ” She argues, sleep clearly overtaking her, as she’s not exactly making any sense. She’s fighting to stay awake for you and you need her to go to sleep, because that’s just… too much. 

“Laura… sleep.” You insist softly. 

“ _Mmh… I like that._ ” The more sleepy she gets, the raspier and lower her voice gets. It’s really not… ideal. 

“Like what?” You ask and internally curse yourself when your voice shakes slightly. What the hell?

“ _When you say my name… I like how it sounds._ ” 

You let out a small chuckle and shake your head at her, “Noted…” You smile, “Good night… _Laura_ ”. 

She let’s out an appreciative sound (that you completely ignore what does to you) before she finally relents, “ _Good night, Carm…_ ”

Then you hang up… and you’re alone in the dark again. 

You look out of the window with a deep sigh. You feel better than you have all day, that much is certain… and you don’t mind being alone, not really. You like it when you know it’s your own choice, when you know you have other options. If not… you hate it. It’s the lack of control, your therapist says, the powerlessness. Right. 

You think about Laura and how, even miles away, she’s managed to make you feel less alone, like you matter, and suddenly you really curse that Styria seems to be one of the only things you actually have in common. You want to know what she looks like, what she’s like in real life. You really, _truly_ do. 

You jump down from the windowsill and head to the bathroom to get ready for bed. You know you won’t be able to sleep, but maybe a few more chapters of Kierkegaard will do the trick. Or maybe you should switch to Plato… he really was a bore.

When you return, you’re surprised to see that you’ve received two new messages from Laura. 

Cupcake [2:34am]: |  5’2”, tiny in every way (though obviously in good shape from all the krav maga), long, brown hair and brown eyes, a zoo exploded inside my wardrobe and my eyebrow game is definitely stronger than yours. |   
---|---|---  
Cupcake [2:35am]: | Sweet dreams :) x  
  
You can’t help the smile on your face as you read the messages on your phone. For the first time, you can actually _try_ to imagine a tiny Laura curled up in her bed, only wearing a Doctor Who t-shirt, and smiling before she falls asleep. You wonder, also for the first time, how it would feel to lay next to her, how it would feel if you ran your hand through her hair or felt her soft breathing on your skin.

… And not at all for the first time, you wonder, if it’s indeed possible to miss someone you’ve never met.


	5. An Attempt to Tip the Scales

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Carmilla is continually occupying Laura's mind to the point where Laura takes matters into her own hands, but someone else may be showing her interest and opposed to Carmilla, she's there in flesh and blood.

That night is the first time you dream about Carmilla. 

The dream is kind of… unnerving, but not exactly in a scary way. It seems so real… like that weird moment of clarity during magic hour or the moment right before a car crash. You’re in your room, in your bed, and there’s someone standing at the foot of it. It’s a female figure dressed in black, her hair the same colour, making it blend into the clothes and forming a sort of dark silhouette around the figure. Her face is unrecognisable; she has no eyes, no nose, no mouth. No features at all. A face without a face, but you know it’s her. You know it and you’re not scared.

* * *

Laura [08:15am]: | I. Am. SO. Tired. Like, on a cellular level  
---|---  
  
You literally drag yourself out of bed, because unfortunately you’re already late and you don’t have time to snooze just _one more time_. Lucky for you, Betty was another no-show last night, so you have the bathroom all to yourself. 

You stand under the running water like someone who’s just been a victim of the Petrificus Totalus spell (although you assume you’d actually _fall_ to the ground if that was the case). Despite how tired you are though, you still think your phone call with Carmilla last night was worth every second of wasted sleep (even if you are quite possibly gonna fall asleep in class). 

Although, as much as your inner journalist is currently jumping up and down while clapping her tiny hands in pure joy that _you_ , Laura Hollis, in the span of very few days, have learned so much more about the mystery that is _Carmilla_ , you’re more curious than ever. 

Who _is_ she, really? Where does she come from? Why is she being so vague about everything and why doesn’t she want you to see her? She’s a mystery just waiting to be solved. 

You step out of the shower, only slightly more awake than you were before you stepped under the water, and wrap a towel around yourself. You suppose you should probably respect that she doesn’t want you to know - that she’s not ready - but it’s just not in your nature. You can barely help it, really.

On your way to your 9:00am class, you start sorting through the basic information you _do_ know about her: her first name’s Carmilla (you choose to trust her on this), she lives in Paris (but she’s not _from_ there), she studies philosophy (but you don’t know where), her username online is HeyCarmilla (very original) and she has two siblings (whose names you don’t know). You also have a _slight_ idea of what she may look like. That’s… something. 

You don’t pay attention in today’s lit class _at all_. Instead, you literally spend the good of an hour searching on Google using keywords like; _Carmilla paris philosophy student transfer_ , before you use the good of _another_ hour just going through social media looking for Carmillas with her description studying philosophy in Paris. Nothing. Or if there is, you don’t realise it’s her. 

You give up and more or less slam your forehead down on your laptop in defeat. Veronica Mars would not be impressed. 

* * *

“Hey, Laura…. Laura…. _Laura_ , you’re dreaming….”

You jolt awake when you feel something tickle your nose, “Whaaa! I’m awake.” 

“Don’t bite my head off or anything.” Danny looks at your confused look amused. What is she doing in your room? It’s only then you actually take a second to look around and realise that you are, in fact, _not_ in your room, but still in the lecture hall that you incidentally fell asleep in. Great. 

“I fell asleep in class… didn’t I?” You pretty much face palm yourself. 

“Mmh, pretty much…” Danny confirms, “Not a big fan of Shakespeare, are you?”

To be honest, you didn’t even realise the class had moved on from the Scarlet Letter to Shakespeare.

“Eh… Not particularly.” You say even though you really don’t know enough about him or his works to have an opinion on that. 

“Don’t sweat it, Hollis. Before the end of term I’ll have you speaking Shakespearean like you were Juliet yourself.” Danny smiles proudly. She’s cute, you think, and you can’t help but smile back before you awkwardly ruin the moment by opening your mouth.

“Well, I’ll look forward to that.” You frown at yourself. Did that even make sense? 

Danny simply let’s out a small laugh, “Me too.” She smiles before gesturing to your open laptop, “So, what are you working on there?”

You turn your head back to your laptop and see the search results on universities in Paris offering philosophy courses (it seemed like a good idea at the time). 

“Didn’t know you were interested in philosophy… in Paris?” Danny questions slightly confused, but amused nevertheless. 

You quickly close the laptop before turning around to face her again with a nervous, small laugh, “I just… did some research, you know, in case I change my mind… about journalism. And Silas.”

You cringe at your attempt at an explanation. Why did you just lie to her? It’s not like you were doing anything wrong… per se. Okay, so maybe Carmilla wouldn’t exactly be thrilled if she knew what you had spent your three hour morning class on, but that’s beside the point.

“Right…” Danny looks at you weirdly, as if you suddenly grew two extra heads, but she seems amused still, “I think the lack of sleep might be messing with your head, Hollis. What did you do last night anyway? Doctor Who marathon again?”

For some reason you feel like you just got caught with your hand in the cookie jar (it happened quite often when you were a kid, believe it or not), “I… Yeah, you know me, once I get started…”

Danny laughs at your fake admission. Seriously, what’s with the lying? You decide to blame it on the lack of sleep and the fact that it would just be too complicated to explain.

“So, you’re coming to the party at the Zetas’ tonight, right?” Danny asks as she walks you out of the lecture hall, “Please tell me you are, because I don’t know if I can handle entertaining Kirsch by myself for an entire night.”

You let out a small chuckle at this, “Yeah, that’s the plan anyway.” You answer, as you come to a halt in the hallway where the two of you are heading in different directions, “Though _I think_ I should probably get a nap in beforehand…”

“That’s probably wise.” Danny chuckles, “Wouldn’t want you passing out at the Zeta’s. Unless, of course, you want to wake up with drawings of dicks on your face.”

You cringe and look at her in a mix of disgust and horror, “I think I’ll pass on that, thank you.”

She laughs again and you kind of like that you seem to be making her do that a lot, “If it happens, I’ll come to your rescue and carry you out of there.” She smiles shyly as she completely catches you off guard by leaning down before she kisses you on the cheek, “See you later, Hollis.”

And then she’s off down the hall. You’re still standing in the exact same place, looking as surprised and flushed as ever. 

* * *

You’re on your way back to your room, completely occupied by your own thoughts and reliving the previous moment in the hallway in your head, when Carmilla finally answers you. 

Carm [12:15pm]: |  I feel surprisingly rested in comparison.  
---|---  
Carm [12:15pm]: | Sorry for keeping you up half the night, cupcake  
  
You can’t help but smile. You were (I’m)patiently waiting for her to wake up, if truth be told… 

Laura [12:17pm]: |  Maybe that’s because you slept through the morning ;)  
---|---  
Laura [12:17pm]: |  Also… totally worth it :)   
Carm [12:19pm]: |  I don’t do mornings if I can avoid them  
---|---  
Carm [12:19pm]: |  I’m glad you thought so, tiny cupcake  
Carm [12:19pm]: |  :-)   
  
You laugh as you reach your room, and you’re genuinely surprised when you see Betty in your room. You don’t think you’ve seen her for… days? 

“Betty.” You say surprised, as you freeze in the doorway before adding dramatically, “You’re alive!”

Betty looks at you playfully while rolling her eyes, “Oh, don’t be such a hamster in a ball, dude. I’m living —”

“— the college experience.” You finish for her before you close the door with an amused shake of your head, “Yeah, I know. “ You put down your bag next to the bed and slip off your jacket, “It would’ve been nice to know you were still breathing though and weren’t like kidnapped, injected with parasites and prepared for an ancient evil sacrifice…”

You look over at her and notice her weird expression, “… or something.” 

“You’re an odd duck, did I ever tell you that?”

“Once or twice…” You respond as you fall down on your bed with a bump. 

“Yeah, well, I love you anyway.” She winks at you before she resumes looking through a pile of clothes on her bed, “And I’ll love you even _more_ if you help me choose an outfit for tonight’s Zeta party.”

You groan loudly and dissatisfied before you hide your face under your yellow pillow. You listen to Betty ramble on about her previous days’ adventures and how tonight’s party is gonna be _off the hook_ (who even says that?) when you slowly feel your eyes close. 

* * *

Carm [12:56pm]: |  Any wild plans for the weekend, creampuff?   
---|---  
  
You look at the message disoriented. What time is it? What _year_ is it? You squint your eyes and look at the time on your phone. It’s half past four in the afternoon. You’re supposed to meet up with LaF and Perry at six for dinner… plenty of time. 

Laura [03:34pm]: |  Sorry!!! I just woke up from my nap  
---|---  
Laura [03:35pm]: | There’s a party at the Zeta’s tonight, but nothing apart from that. You? :D   
  
Betty isn’t in your room anymore. You have a feeling you might’ve fallen asleep in the middle of a conversation with her, but you hope she doesn’t take it too personally… _someone_ just kept you up half the night. 

Carm [03:46pm]: | The Zeta’s, huh? Interesting.  
---|---  
Carm [03:46pm]: | Someone from my year is hosting a party tonight. I might attend. I might not. Time will tell, I suppose  
Carm [03:46pm]: |  Also… I’m not sure three hours of sleep is considered a nap, sweetheart  
  
You smile at her messages. She’s so mysterious, even with something as simple as going to a party or not. You wish you knew what makes her tick. You wish you knew her story - the real one. 

Laura [03:47pm]: |  I disagree. As long as it’s below the recommended eight-hours of night sleep it can totally be considered a nap  
---|---  
  
You start calculating in your head how much time you have before you have to get ready for the evening’s shenanigans. You have to be at Perry and LaF’s room at six, so that gives you roughly two hours. You don’t really do the whole _dress up_ thing, so choosing an outfit and brushing your hair won’t take long… You definitely have time for a couple of episodes of Agent Carter (or three).

Carm [03:55pm]: |  I refer to the English Oxford Dictionary: “Nap; noun - a short or light sleep, especially one taken during the day; a snooze.”  
---|---  
  
You’re in your bed, under the blanket, with a cup of cocoa in your hand and Agent Carter in front of you when she replies. You can’t help but smile with a shake of your head.

Laura [03:56pm]: |  Did you actually just look up ‘nap’ in the dictionary?   
---|---  
Carm [03:58pm]: |  I like to be right  
  
This is really no news to you. 

Laura [03:59pm]: |  I’ve noticed ;) So you don’t like napping then?   
---|---  
Carm [04:03pm]: |  I didn’t say that  
  
You (sort of) abandon Agent Carter (just for a bit) in favour of your conversation with Carmilla. 

Laura [04:04pm]: |  GOOD. Because napping is like THE best thing ever  
---|---  
Laura [04:04pm]: |  Apart from cocoa  
Laura [04:04pm]: |  And Netflix  
Laura [04:04pm]: |  But I find that the three often go hand in hand  
  
You re-read your messages again and can’t help but cringe a bit over your excitement. Did it make you sound lame…?

Carm [04:15pm]: |  You’re adorable  
---|---  
Carm [04:16pm]: |  I, on the other hand, find that “Netflix and chill “ often go hand in hand   
  
Luckily, she didn’t seem to think so… On the contrary she called you adorable again. You can’t help but smile.

Laura [04:20pm]: |  Isn’t that more or less what I just said? :p  
---|---  
Laura [04:22pm]: |  We should totally do that sometime!  
  
Maybe that was too forward of you? You just really want to hang out with her. You spend all of this time talking and joking around… You just _know_ you’d enjoy her company in real life. You kind of crave it sometimes, actually, which is weird since you haven’t even met her. 

She hasn’t answered after a while, so you figure she probably freaked at the possibility of hanging out in real life. You can totally save this though.

Laura [04:27pm]: |  Like, we pick something on Netflix and we press start at the exact same time. It’ll be like we’re watching it together!  
---|---  
  
Her response comes quickly this time, but it only confuses you. 

Carm [04:29pm]: |  … You don’t know what “netflix and chill” means, do you, cupcake?   
---|---  
Laura [04:29pm]: |  ??  
Carm [04:32pm]: |  Goolge it   
  
You frown at the message before you put down your phone and pause Agent Carter in order to look up _Netflix and chill_. You’re not sure what she expects you to find other than — Oh…You did _not_ expect that. At all. 

_”Urban Dictionary: Netflix and Chill. It means that you are going to go over to your partner’s house and fuck with Netflix in the background.”_

You kind of just freeze as you read the so-called definition. When did the Internet decide this? Then you kind of panic. That is _not_ what you meant to ask Carmilla. AT ALL. You grab your phone in panic and write exactly that. 

Laura [04:36pm]: |  OMG. Totally NOT what I meant!   
---|---  
Carm [04:38pm]: |  Are you quite sure about that, cutie…?  
  
You can just _imagine_ her saying that with that annoyingly alluring and sultry voice of hers. Even thinking about it makes you blush. Ugh!

Laura [04:39pm]: | YES!!  
---|---  
Laura [04:41pm]: |  Honestly, it wasn’t. I swear!   
  
You bite your nails nervously as you wait for her reply. Surely she believes you, right? Even if you _did_ want to ‘netflix and chill’ with her (which is not what you’re saying - you don’t even know if you’re attracted to her), that is _so_ not the way you’d go about it. You have more game than that. Barely, but still. 

Carm [04:44pm]: |  Pity…  
---|---  
Carm [04:45pm]: |  ;-)   
  
You’re pretty sure the smile on your face is going to split your face in half if the blush doesn’t burn your face off beforehand. 

Laura [04:47pm]: |  …  
---|---  
Laura [04:48pm]: |  You’re bad  
Carm [04:50pm]: |  You inspire it in me, cupcake  
  
You shake your head at her, but can’t help the small laugh. She’s unbelievable, but you kind of like it. You like it a lot, actually.

You look at the time and decide you better find something to wear tonight. You abandon your phone (and Agent Carter) to go look through your closet. You’re not exactly feeling the inspiration as you look through your clothes, but you manage to find a long grey’ish skirt and a shirt that you slip on. 

You look at yourself in the mirror, and despite finding your whole attire a bit dull, you simply shrug at your reflection and decide that it doesn’t get better than that. In that moment, however, Betty decides to show up again. 

“Oooh… No, no, no, no.” Is how she greets you when she looks you over once, “This is bad! Please tell me this is not what you’re wearing tonight?”

You kind of just shrugs at her. Does it really matter? 

“This won’t do - we’re gonna get you into something cute!” She says kind of excitedly, kind of thoughtfully, before she shoves you aside and starts raiding your closet. 

“Nope… _Definitely not_ … Is this even legal?” Are some of the things she says while looking through your clothes, “Alright, let’s see if we can fit you into something of mine instead, ‘kay?”

You were kind of hoping she wouldn’t say that… “Betty, that really isn’t necessary, I—”

“Oh, come on, dude! It’s our college adventure!” She says as she turns around to look at you. You’re not convinced. “Danny’s gonna be there….” She tries to tempt you (you hate that it’s already working), “Will you just try something on… please?”

You always have a hard time saying no (it’s got nothing to do with you wanting to impress Danny, of course), “Yes, fine!”

“Yeah!” Betty cheers excitedly and immediately begins throwing clothes of her own at you for you to try on. You already regret this. 

* * *

You’re looking yourself over in the mirror for the second time that evening. The outfit is definitely not something you’d have _ever_ chosen for yourself, but even you can’t deny the fact that it _does_ fit you quite nicely even if you are _entirely_ too uncomfortable.

“See,” Betty gestures to all 5’2” of you, “Aren’t you glad you agreed to let me help you?”

You kind of feel like a child again; a child who needs someone to dress you to prevent you going out looking like a rainbow exploded on you. Still, she did a good job, you think, as you look at the black crop top and the colourful skirt she chose for you. 

“You have great abs, babe, you need to show them off!” 

You’re not really sure you agree with that statement but whatever, “Thanks, Betty.” You say, as a random thought pops into your head, “But I think I need a second opinion…” 

Betty just shrugs before she grabs her bag, “Whatever, my work here is done - I’ll see you later, ‘kay?” 

And off she goes. You shake your head at your roommate. You adore her, but she’s so… flighty… compared to you. You push the thought away and quickly grab your phone with a mischievous expression. 

Laura [05:41pm]: |  So I kind of need your opinion on something  
---|---  
Carm [05:42pm]: |  Shoot  
  
Well, she totally told you to go for it, didn’t she? You awkwardly snap a picture of your outfit (from the neck down) and send it off before you have a second to change your mind. 

Laura [05:45pm]: |  My roommate decided to dress me for the evening  
---|---  
Laura [05:46pm]: |  What do you think? O:-)  
Laura [05:47pm]: | [Picture]  
  
You have no idea how she’ll react. You have no idea if you crossed the line, if you pushed it too far. But you have to get somewhere soon, right? Like, your friendship can’t stay in this weird state forever and you’re hoping this will kind of… speed things along. Trigger her curiosity, or something like that. It’s perfectly innocent though. 

You reason with yourself over and over again while you nervously pace the small space of your room while biting your nails on one hand and squeezing your phone tightly with the other. Why isn’t she answering? 

You look at the time again. It’s almost six… You can’t very well stay in your room all night and wait for her to _maybe_ reply. Did you mess everything up? It was only a picture of your outfit for Christ’s sake… 

It’s five past six and she still hasn’t answered. Reluctantly, you grab your stuff and head out the door. Well, at least you tried, right? If she doesn’t appreciate that, maybe someone else will.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for your support and interest in this story thus far! I know it may feel a bit slow paced right now, but for those impatient souls out there, you can count down to chapter 8 :):):)


	6. Fuel To the Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Laura ends up having one too many drinks at the Zeta-party and reveals more about her Lois Lane tendencies than she means to. Carmilla is dealing with everything the best she can, but is she willing to meet Laura half-way in order not to lose whatever they have?

_Why?_ Why must you be tortured like this? 

Okay, so maybe you haven’t exactly been the poster child for exemplary behaviour in the past and if there really is such a thing as karma, you definitely have some future suffering coming your way, but still - _why?_

You try to look away from the picture she sent you, you really do. You even try leaving your phone on your bed to go make dinner, but in the middle of frying pieces of chicken, you abandon the hot stove to go look at the picture again. The chicken ends up burned. 

You have such mixed feelings about it. On one hand, you’re incredibly annoyed with her (borderline mad, in fact) that she _obviously_ didn’t respect your wish not to exchange pictures. No, it doesn’t exactly show her face, but it still counts. On the other hand, you really wish you could stretch the picture just _a little_ , so you can see every last bit of her. What she sent you is just not enough (you’re hypocritical like that). 

You know you should probably answer her… You can only imagine how she must be feeling, all frantic and anxious. Still, you don’t. She shouldn’t have done it (even though you _do_ appreciate how her collarbone is showing and how you can sense her toned abdomen below the crop top). 

You don’t go to the party. The only reason you considered it was to distract yourself from the chaotic mind of yours. You doubt that’s going to happen now… 

You end up at the café instead. You hang out with Marcel and play some cards, but the place is soon crowded with people who are either pre-drinking or waiting for the live act to go on later. You can’t with a crowd tonight, so you decide to take some food to go and head back to the apartment. 

Mattie isn’t home (not that it’s any surprise), so you eat alone while watching an old french black and white film (like jazz, film noir is a genre highly underrated). You can’t fool yourself though. It’s always at the back of your mind; _she’s_ always on your mind it would seem. 

The end credits roll across the screen when you stop yourself from looking at your phone (and the picture) for a fourth time since you sat down on the couch. You manage to do just that when a string of incoming messages makes you look anyway.

Cupcake [11:36pm]: |  Pleease answer me warm |   
---|---|---  
Cupcake [11:36pm]: |  Warm |   
Cupcake [11:37pm]: |  Carm |   
Cupcake [11:38pm]: |  :(   
  
You shake your head at her, slightly annoyed. She must be drunk texting you. You briefly worry how much she’s had to drink, but push the thought away. It’s not your problem. 

Cupcake [11:45pm]: |  I’m sorry :( :( :(   
---|---  
  
She tries again when you don’t answer. Well… at least she knows she crossed the line. 

Cupcake [11:47pm]: |  It wasn’t even that bad  
---|---  
  
Or maybe she doesn’t. Jesus Christ… 

Cupcake [11:48pm]: |  Was ot ?   
---|---  
  
You have a feeling she’s actually more worried that you don’t like what little you saw than the fact that she totally crossed the line by sending it in the first place - especially when she _knows_ you didn’t want her to. 

You abandon your phone next to you on the couch (or try to). You need space, if only to prevent yourself from saying something you don’t really mean. You don’t even pretend to fight the urge to grab your phone when it vibrates again. 

Cupcake [12:02am]: |  I miss your voice  
---|---  
  
You hate how your heart honest to God feels like it _squeezes_ together when you read that last message. Goddammit. Why does she have to be so… _Laura?_

You consider whether or not to answer this time when your phone starts ringing. 

_**Cupcake**_  
_Slide to answer_

You sigh deeply. She’s insistent, that’s for sure (was it anyone else, you would never even consider picking up). 

“What?” You say after accepting the call. In your head you wanted it to sound… harsher… but somehow it just came out quiet, almost soft.

 _”Pleeease don’t be mad, Carm.”_ She sort of whines, sort of slurs. You hear the noise of the party in the background, people shouting, music booming. 

“I’m not.” You sigh, but this time there’s a bit of a sharp edge to your voice. You’re _not_ jealous that you can’t be there with her. 

“ _Are too!_ ” She tries to argue with you when it suddenly sounds like she trips or something, “ _Shit._ ”

Laura cursing is something you find very odd and so you think she must be really drunk. You really can’t help but worry though you try not to.

“Alright, I’m gonna regret asking this, but how much have you had to drink?”

In a low voice she answers, “ _That’s for me to know_.” You think she might be trying to imitate you, which kind of amuses you.

“Don’t you think it might be time to call it a night, cupcake?” 

She ignores your question (or subtle way of making sure she gets home alright) and instead asks, or rather slurs, you one herself, “ _I thought you were going out tonight?_ ”

“The more I thought about a party with those lackwits, the less interested I was.” 

“ _Why?_ ” Laura asks and actually manages to sound genuinely interested, despite the state she’s in. 

“Always so curious…” You mummer softly. 

“ _Always so mysterious._ ” She shoots back, to which you can’t help but nod in agreement. She doesn’t add anything for a while, and you kind of refuse to either (though you don’t particularly want to hang up). 

“ _I really am sorry for pushing this…_ ” She finally says, sounding like she’s sobered up slightly.

You sigh deeply again (you’ve lost count on how many times you’ve done that today) and think you might be willing to let it go after all. She didn’t respect your boundaries, sure, but you do understand her frustration and she hasn’t asked for a picture back, which is, essentially, what you were afraid of (you also _really_ like what you saw), “It’s… fine, cupcake.”

You think that’s that, but then she goes and opens her mouth again.

“ _I just really want to know more about you…_ ” She says before chuckling drunkenly, “ _I even spent my morning class googling you._ Not _as easy as it sounds._ ”

You’re actually kind of shocked by the admission. So much that you’re actually having trouble processing it. 

“You did what?” 

“ _I mean, I didn’t find anything, obviously —_ ”

“That’s _hardly_ the point, Laura.“ You interrupt her harshly. You’ve definitely used up your amount of sweet and patience for today, “If I wanted you to know more about me, I’d tell you myself, but I don’t, so just back off!”

She’s gone quiet on the other end and you wonder if maybe you were too hard on her. It’s the first time she’s ever really experienced that side of you… and you hate it. 

You think she’s about to say something when someone at the party (definitely a girl) interrupts your phone call, “ _Hey, Laura! Where’ve you been? We’re about to beat the Zetas at beer pong!_ ” 

“ _Just give me a sec, okay? I just have to —_ ”

You laugh coldly into the phone, interrupting whatever she was about to answer her friend. You’ve had enough of this day already, “Don’t bother. Go right ahead.” 

And then you hang up before she has a chance to tell you not to. 

* * *

When you wake up the next day you’re in a bad mood. You don’t remember the last time you woke up feeling like you’d rather poke yourself in the eye than ever get out of bed (but you know it’s at least two months ago). 

You couldn’t fall asleep the night before (shocker), so it’s no surprise to you when you check the time and see it’s well past noon. Thank God it’s Saturday - at least there’s that. You also check your phone for messages, but there isn’t any. It’s just as well; you want to be left alone. 

You’re about to crawl back under the comfort of the duvet when your sister suddenly bursts into your room wearing a rather annoyed expression on her face. 

“Ever heard of knocking?” You ask sarcastically before actually hiding your entire body under the duvet. 

“It’s my own apartment, Carmilla. I can do what I want.”

You roll your eyes under the duvet, “God, you sound like Mother.”

“Speaking of…” Your sister continues, ignoring your comment, “She just called to inform me that she booked her flight. She’ll be here Monday morning.”

You want to feel indifferent about it, you really do. You just can’t. Mattie doesn’t need to know that though, “Fantastic. I’ll be sure to pull out all the stops for a welcome party.”

She (childishly) rips off your duvet in response, “Hey!” You exclaim annoyed. 

“I think you fail to understand that you’re not the only one who’s being forced to be in the same company as Maman.” Mattie says sternly, and this is actually the first time you notice the look in her eye; that familiar anxious one, “Now, get up. It’s almost two in the afternoon. I thought you were done with this _sleeping your day away_ nonsense.”

She lets go of your duvet and stalks off into the living room before you reply quietly to no one in particular, “So did I…” 

* * *

You end up doing as you’re told (for once) and slip into a pair of loose shorts before you pull your hair into a messy bun and walk into the living room. You don’t bother changing the shirt you slept in.

“Satisfied?” You ask your sister tiredly, who’s sitting on the couch, as you walk directly to the fridge to look for something to eat. 

“Immensely.” She answers cooly without looking up from the papers she’s looking through. 

You roll your eyes, as you scan the fridge for food. Are you honestly the only one who shops for groceries? Stupid question. You end up settling for a bowl of the french equivalent to Count Dracula with soy milk. 

You sit down at the kitchen island and eat your cereal. It’s quiet; the only sounds being the ruffling of papers and the occasional clink of your spoon against the bowl followed by your teeth crunching the chocolate covered corn. You’re used to distractions. Music, books, sleep… anything. 

Your mind takes you back to last night, unsurprisingly. Your first thought is on how it was the first time since you started talking to Laura that you’ve felt powerless; powerless to dictate the course of things and maintain control of your life and your past. Your second thought is on how much your life has changed since you were the one at those Zeta parties… since you left your old life behind. 

“Hey, Mattie?” You ask thoughtfully before swollowing the mouthful of cereal you had in your mouth ( _it’s not polite to speak with food in your mouth, Carmilla_ , as Mother would’ve so kindly pointed out), “Have you talked to Will lately?”

“Yes.” She answers without looking up from her papers, “And before you ask, he still doesn’t wish to speak with you, _or_ hear you out for that matter.”

Your heart sinks more than you thought it would. Honestly, you should be used to hearing that by now, “How do you —”

“I know because I asked.” Your sister interrupts rather cooly. She’s always taken his side… Rightfully so, if truth be told. But how can you fix things with someone who refuses to even take your calls? (The irony is not lost on you). 

“Fine.” You say to no one in particular as you get up and rinse your bowl before you leave it in the sink and walk back towards your room. 

“Do put that used bowl of yours in the dishwasher, Kitty-cat. I suspect you know that’s what it’s for.”

You stop in your tracks and literally have to restrain yourself from shooting back a remark that probably would have her sending you back to Mother before she even got a chance to invade your Parisian lives. 

You manage to bite it back, but remain quiet as you walk back to the sink, put the bowl and spoon in the dishwasher and all but slam it shut. 

“Happy?” You can’t help but retort, as you stalk back towards your room again. 

“Most certainly.”

You slam the door shut. God you wish you had your own place.

* * *

The more time passes, the more restless you get. The more restless, the more room for thoughts to occupy your mind.

You know you practically _appreciated_ that Laura hadn’t texted you earlier, but honestly, _she_ was the one who messed up. Shouldn’t she at least _try_ to make up for it? Maybe you overestimated your friendship… or whatever the hell it is the two of you share. 

When you re-emerge from your room later that night, Mattie is nowhere to be found. You look for a note (honestly, you don’t even know why), but don’t find any. Perfect. 

You move to the fridge and look inside (because apparently that’s what you do with your life now). You’re not even hungry, so you don’t know why you bother. 

You grab your headphones from the counter instead before you go and lay down on the couch. You choose a playlist suitable to fill your ears and mind to distract you from your thoughts. You should’ve learned by now not to underestimate her though. You haven’t even finished the first track before she’s on your mind again. 

Maybe you were too hard on her… It’s hardly her fault, after all. You’re the one with the secrets, the vague information and explanations. Were the roles reversed, you would’ve probably done the same thing… Or actually you would’ve probably not even bothered with her at all. 

She’s different though; so different from you. She’s sweet and adorable in a dorky kind of way. The way that makes you smile even if you try not to. She’s naive, yes, and more optimistic and trusting than what’s good for her, but… the pure kindness she possesses? It’s overwhelming. 

You’re very much occupied by your thoughts and your mind’s failed ability to keep Laura _out_ of it, when you’re interrupted by your sister leaning over you, looking at you expectantly. 

You roll your eyes and take out a single earphone, “What?”

She lifts up a paper bag from your favourite take-out place and tries to look indifferent about it, “I stood in line for 45 minutes for this over-prized junk food that you’re so fond of, which we are now going to enjoy together, before you make yourself more presentable and join me and the girls for a night out.”

You can’t help but look unimpressed as you sit up on your elbows, “Sorry, what now?”

“Well, I figured we’d enjoy the peace and quiet with a night out painting the town red before Maman and her head games arrive.” She explains, as she rolls her eyes at the thought, “Besides, we haven’t had a girls night out in too long.“

You frown at what you think is really her subtle way of apologising for being less than sympathetic the last few days, “I’m not really up for a night out, Mattie…” You say before you reach for the bag of food, “But I will take the food though.”

She moves the bag away from your reach before she looks at you more firmly though affectionately (her signature look with you), “I did not stand in line for 45 minutes for nothing, Kitty-cat. Come out with me or you’ll be making your own dinner tonight.”

You scowl at her for a moment, hoping she’ll change her mind. She doesn’t. “Fine.” You relent reluctantly before shooting her a warning look when her expression changes into something way too self-satisfied, “But _no_ Girls Gone Wild night this time, alright? And you’re buying.”

Her expression falls a bit before she scoffs and sits down on the couch, “When did you become the voice of reason?” You look at her with a pointed look. She knows exactly when. “Fine. ” She rolls her eyes, “As long as you’ll at least pretend to be enjoying yourself.”

“Don’t I always?“ You smirk as you sit up and grab the bag from her before you start unwrapping the food. 

She shakes her head at you amused, “You know, you used to be more fun than that, Kitty.”

“You mean before or after I finally made it out of our dear childhood home?” You ask sarcastically before digging into the food in front of you. 

“As far as I can recall…” Mattie adds thoughtfully after taking a drink from her milkshake, “You didn’t exactly let Mother’s restrains keep you from having fun.“

She’s right, of course. Even when you lived at home you always found ways to sneak out at all hours or found other ways to piss off Mother… like simply existing. 

“True…” You agree with a small nod, but can’t help but add, “Except it would usually end with her locking me in my room for several days to teach me a lesson.”

You both fall quiet for a while; the only sound being you sucking the last bit of your milkshake through the straw. 

“Well, her mercurial temperament was something we’ve all had to deal with…” Mattie finally says somewhat nonchalantly. 

“Some more than others…” You shoot back (just because).

You notice that your sister stops eating, but you don’t react to it. You’re just telling the truth after all. 

“You know why she was always toughest on you right?” She says after a few long moments, but you don’t answer her, “You were always her favourite, her little kaiserin.”

You can’t help the scoff you make, “I think you have that backwards, Mattie.”

“Hardly.” She scoffs herself, earning her a pointed look from you, “You’re her real firstborn. Her own _flesh and blood_.”

You can’t help the dejected look on your face. You’ve never thought of Mattie as anything but your older sister, whether you share DNA or not. She’s always been there for as long as you can remember, a part of the family… 

“Oh, don’t look at me like that, Kitty-cat. It is what it is.” She says with a shrug, “Besides, I’m not exactly one to complain. I mean, God, she practically made it her mission to mould you into her own little mini-me for all these years.”

You cringe unintentionally at her words as you look away. You think you just lost your appetite. You love your sister unconditionally, but sometimes she can really be rather tactless… You suppose it runs in the family though. 

“Listen, I didn’t —”

“It’s fine.” You interrupt her before she has a chance to continue this abhorrent conversation, “It is what it is, right?”

She nods in agreement before she changes the subject, “Enough talk about Maman. I’m sure we’ll have plenty of time for that come Monday.” You couldn’t agree more on that (unfortunately), “So…”

She drags out the last part in a mischievous way, making you look at her suspiciously, “So?”

“Let’s talk girls then… or boys… whatever you’re into these days.” 

You roll your eyes at her predictability, “Girls.” You answer, just to clarify, “And I’m not talking about this with you.”

“Oh, come on, Kitty. It’s all part of girls night. Tell me, who tickles your fancy these days?”

“Ugh, please don’t ever say that again.” You groan in disgust, “Also, there’s nothing to tell.”

“Do you really think you can lie to me, little monster?” She asks rather serious, “I may not be around much, but don’t think I haven’t noticed the foolish smile on your face every time you get a text-message these days.”

You roll your eyes and get up to throw out the rest of your food in an attempt to hide the blush in your cheeks, “That’s… nothing. She’s… She’s no one.”

The words seem so wrong in your mouth that it even makes you frown the moment you say them, but you shake it off as you throw out the food in the trashcan. 

“That sudden blush of yours sure is very convincing, sis. ” Your sister says from the couch, her voice dripping with sarcasm. 

You look over at her from the kitchen area with an annoyed look, “Look, she’s just… She’s just this girl I’ve been talking to. Nothing more to tell.”

“If a girl can manage to keep _my_ sister interested for longer than a night of wild passion, I’d say she’s pretty special, wouldn’t you?”

You can’t help the small smile on your face. It’s very true, after all. 

“Well, would you look at that…” Mattie adds when she sees the smile, “You _like_ her, don’t you?”

You roll your eyes again, but you can’t hide the smile on your face, “No… It’s not like that. We’re just… friends.” You say, not really knowing what else to define you as, “Besides, it hardly matters anyway. I think I screwed it up.”

“That’s hardly a surprise, darling.” She chuckles, earning her a scowl from you to which she merely shrugs, “Well, in my experience, apologising is always a good place to start.”

“And you have a lot of experience with that, do you? Apologising?” You smirk knowingly. 

She doesn’t look impressed with you, “More than you do, I'm sure.”

“I beg to differ.” 

“Well, it was simply a well-intended suggestion, sis.” Mattie brushes it off, “Now go get ready, will you? I don’t have all night.”

You can’t help but chuckle at your sister’s own mercurial moods, but you wouldn’t be without her for anything in the world. 

* * *

You’re looking at yourself in the mirror after getting ready as your sister so kindly commanded you to do. You’re wearing your favourite pair of leather pants and a corset. You don't remember the last time you wore a dress or a skirt, but you do like your corsets... 

Your mind takes you back to the picture Laura sent you last night before she was going to the party at the Zeta house. You shake your head as you grab your phone from your back pocket and look at it again (you’ve lost count at how many times you’ve done it). 

An idea pops into your head unexpectedly. You think about what Mattie said about apologising, but you really never were great with apologies, and you have a feeling words are not going to cut it this time. 

You sigh deeply before you open the camera app on your phone. God, you’re so gonna regret this, aren’t you?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really like those cliffhangers, don't I? Thanks for reading!


	7. The View From the Afternoon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Laura is dealing with the aftermath of the Zeta-party while trying to make up her mind about something. Carmilla may yet surprise her, making life a little more difficult for both of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your continued support! This chapter turned out way longer than I anticipated. I felt there was a few important scenes that needed the extra attention, I suppose. The chapter also leads up to what some may call 'the point of no return' and will likely be split into two parts. Hopefully I'll be able to post them both at the same time or with a few days in-between. I'm starting my next semester of Uni tomorrow, though, so I'm not sure if I can keep up with the regular updates, but I'll give it my best try :) Enjoy!

You’re still recovering from last night well into Saturday afternoon. You had _way_ too much to drink at the party and you’re _so_ regretting it right now. You usually don’t drink that much, barely ever parties, actually, but last night kind of got out of hand… more ways than one.

After your drunk and embarrassing phone-call with Carmilla (which you’d rather not think about), you ended up drinking even more as a result. You wanted to go home, but Danny convinced you to beat Kirsch and his ‘bro’ Will in a game of beer pong… which somehow turned into several games.

You’re not really sure how it happened. You’re not even sure on the _when_ or _why_. Well, the why-part is fairly obvious, you think, but still… You would’ve liked your first kiss with Danny to have been slightly more… _sober_ , and therefore more memorable, than it turned out to be. It was good though. Great, in fact… as far as you can remember. What you don’t get is this tiny prickling feeling somewhere beneath your skin that you can only identify as guilt. It’s not like an overwhelming feeling or anything, but it’s there. It’s definitely there.

“Help.” A groan interrupts your thoughts from the other bed in the room before Betty lifts her messy head from underneath her pillows.

“Betty?” You croak out in a raspy, dry voice. You might be hungover, but at least you’re not as bad as your roommate.

“Water.” She manages to choke out like it’s her dying wish or something. You’re about to tell her to get it herself when you realise how much your throat resembles the Sahara desert and you change your mind.

You slowly, but surely, move to the edge of the bed before you stand up way too. You manage to steady yourself before you take a minute to let the dizziness fade and get both of you a glass of water. Betty gulps it down like her life depends on it. “Thanks.”

“No problem.” You say slowly, as if speaking too fast might jolt your head or something. You down your own glass before you slowly lay down on your bed again and groan out a painful, “I’m never drinking again.”

“Yeah, I’ve heard that before…”

“No, really. I imagine this is how the _Crucio_ curse feels… but worse.”

“The _Crucio_ -what now?” Betty asks confused, tiredly, but shrugs it off before you have a chance to explain (you often forget that not everyone possesses the same knowledge of Harry Potter as you do), “Anyway, it didn’t seem like you minded it last night when you were sucking the face off of Lawrence.”

You can’t help but cringe at the sudden very vivid reminder of you straddling Danny on the couch in the Zetas’ living room. It’s not that you regret it… per se. It’s just that you really don’t remember much of it and it’s kind of unnerving having a hole in your memory like that. Like it wasn’t really you who did it.

“You saw that?”

“Honey, _everyone_ saw that.” She replies nonchalantly until she sees the horror on your face. “Dude, it’s not a big deal. We’ve all had our drunken moments, right?”

You nod quietly, but really you want to tell her that _you_ haven’t. Not like that, anyway. You don’t have a chance to say anything, though, as the door to your room suddenly flies open before your nostrils are hit with the most lovely smell you’ve ever had the the pleasure of smelling. It smells of renewed hope and brighter days.

“Hey, guys.” LaF grins as they step into the room, Perry right behind them, as they hold up a big, glorious box from _Valentina_. “Pizza, anyone?”

You’ve never loved them more.

* * *

You check your phone for the hundredth time. Carmilla still hasn't   texted you… You have a few missed calls from Danny, and multiple unanswered texts, asking if you’re okay, if you came home alright… You just need some time to think though. Sort out your head. Stuff like that.

You know you should probably text Carmilla, but you just don’t know what to say. You know that going behind her back to find information she wasn’t willing to give you herself was wrong… or was it, really? Is it really so wrong to want to know who the person is that you’re sharing parts of you with that you can’t remember ever sharing? Is it so wrong that you want to put a face, a real person, to the girl who’s constantly finding a way to occupy your mind? Is it so wrong that you can’t deny that a part of you craves to get closer to her when there are people _here_ who are real and cares about you?

“You okay, L?” LaF asks a while after you’ve finished another slice of the pizza they brought. It really did wonders for you. For a moment there, you weren’t sure if you’d make it.

“Yeah, no… I’m just hungover.” You say, but you don’t even convince yourself, as you can only manage a small tug at the corner of your mouth as reassurance, so you don’t blame the unconvinced frown on their face.

“Well, you shouldn’t drink so much, Laura.” Perry interjects all motherly. “It’s not good for you and I’m pretty sure you exceeded the recommended maximum intake of alcoholic beverages last night.”

“You sure know how to make a party sound lame.” Betty comments dryly from her bed, her voice muffled from the pillow she’s currently laying face-down on.

Perry looks almost offended, “You know, it’s actually possible to have fun without getting completely wasted and hooking up with random people.”

“Or you can hook up with people you know…” Betty responds still face-down on her pillow before she slowly manages to lift her head up and turn it towards you, a teasing smirk touching her lips, “Like your TA.”

You shoot her a warning glare in response, “Can we not go there? I’d rather not talk about it.”

“Do you regret it happened?” LaF questions, just as worried as they are curious, ignoring what you literally just said.

You take a deep breath through your mouth, letting them know you find this conversation completely tiring, before you answer them, “No… yes… I just… I don’t know, okay? I guess it’s just the hangover speaking… and the hole in my memory.”

“Well, maybe it’s something else…” Perry says almost warily while she looks anywhere but you and starts squirming around uncomfortably where she’s seated on the floor.

“What do you mean?” You frown, admittedly a bit curious. Perry, however, refuses to look at you and  simply looks the other way as if you won’t see her if she’s not meeting her gaze. You look to LaF for answers instead, they are usually not as likely to avoid conflict.

“You mean, you don’t remember?” They ask with a careful frown on their face, as if saying the wrong thing might trigger a breakdown or something. You really wish people would stop treating you like this fragile little object.

“Remember what?”You snap impatiently. If people would stop tiptoeing around you for, like, five seconds, that would be great.

LaF looks to Perry for help, but she still refuses to look at either of us. “Well…” LaF begins as they slowly turn their attention back to you before dropping whatever bomb they’re hiding, “You kind of ran away from her.”

“I did?” You frown confused. That wasn’t exactly what you expected and you honestly don’t remember this part at all (you’re seriously not drinking again. _Ever_ ), “Why would I do that? I like Danny; Danny’s great!”

LaF merely shrug their shoulders at this, “Maybe you’re just not into her like that?” You raise a brow at them like it’s the stupidest thing they’ve ever suggested, “Alright, so maybe it’s something else… _someone_ else?”

You knit your brows together as it takes you a second (or five) to actually register what they're trying to say, “That’s ridiculous!” You exclaim disbelievingly although the thought had actually already crossed your mind earlier today, when you first felt the prickling feeling of guilt.

“Is it?” LaF asks knowingly, a tiny smirk tugging at the corner of their mouth. “Is it, really?”

“Yes!” You exclaim immediately as firmly as you can manage, but your voice seem an octave higher than usual, which doesn’t go unnoticed by the gang, “There’s absolutely no way that I ran away from Danny because of… because of…“

“Carmilla…?” LaF finishes the thought you really didn’t want to have with a raised brow and a knowing gaze that’s starting to annoy you. You shoot them a glare just for good measure.

“Who’s Carmilla?” Betty questions from her bed, suddenly very intrigued and alert.

“No one.” You answer firmly with a pointed look in LaF and Perry’s direction before they have a chance to say something that’ll require you to throw a pillow at them. You can’t deny the doubt in your own voice, though, as you repeat quietly, “She’s no one.”

“Very convincing, babe.” Betty huffs out a laugh, “It wouldn’t happen to be the mystery girl you’ve been texting night and day, would it?”

Your brows jump upwards at Betty’s surprisingly accurate conclusion and you can’t help but look incredulously at her. She’s barely been around the last few months; barely had time to do her chores on the chore-wheel or change out of last night’s clothes. You really didn’t think she had noticed.

“What, I’m not blind, dude.” Betty announces when you can’t help but stare at her with a look of disbelief.

“It doesn’t even matter, okay?” You groan out frustrated, throwing your hands up in the air for dramatic effect, “I screwed that up on like _a whole new_ level…”

“Apologising is always a good start…” LaF says as a matter of fact, even nodding at their own suggestion. You shake your head at it, though.

You’ve considered apologising all day, but the thing is… you’re not sure you feel like you should apologise, if you should ask for forgiveness. You know you did something to upset her, to anger her, but… you feel like you have a right to know at this point, and maybe that makes you selfish, but it’s really about self-preservation. What if you end up getting attached to her and she’s not who you expect? If she’s not who she says she is?

“What’s the point?” You end up sighing defeatedly, earning you a look of confusion from the gang around you, “I don’t even know who she is, and she’s made it pretty clear that she doesn’t want me to know.“

“But don’t you talk to her all the time?” Perry questions naturally. You suppose it's kind of difficult for anyone who isn’t in your shoes to really understand, to understand that it’s possible to know someone on a deeper level, but without necessarily knowing who that someone _is_.

You shrug your shoulders before you attempt to explain something inexplicable, “I know _her_ , but I don’t know who she _is_.”

“There’s a difference?” LaF question amused, just like you anticipated they would.

“Yeah…” You answer quietly, averting your gaze from theirs as you focus on the loose string on your Doctor Who shirt, “I think there is.”

You mull things over in your head as the conversation continues around you. It’s like you disappear for a while, letting your body remain present with your friends. You try to explain to yourself why you ran away from Danny the night before after finally getting to kiss her, which you’ve thought about doing since the first time you met her… but you can’t. It does, however, explain the still present prickling feeling of guilt beneath your skin. Maybe it had nothing to do with Carmilla after all.

“I… I need to go… do something.” You interrupt whatever the conversation around you had turned to, as you get up from your bed and start searching for your shoes, focusing solely on this task before you change your mind.

“Where are you going?” LaF asks confused, their gaze following your every step around the small dorm room.

“I need to go see Danny.” You answer vaguely when you finally find your second shoe that had been kicked under the bed.

“Are you sure that’s what you want?“ They press further, a tone of worry in their voice that wasn’t there before.

You sit down on the bed and put on your shoes, as you start ranting, defending your decision, “I can’t put my life on hold for someone I don’t even know is real. I mean, every question I ask about her gets a vague non-answer; I don’t even know what she looks like… There’s something about her that just doesn’t add up and as much as I’d _love_ to figure her out, I just…” You cut yourself off, not really knowing where you were going before you come back to the point of the rant, “I need to live _here_ , now. And I need to go see Danny.”

LaF hold up their hands in a defensive stance, their eyebrows raised and an amused smile spreading on their lips, “Alright there, girl on a mission.” They say as you stand up, ready to go, before they look you over with an amused smirk, “But maybe you should change out of your pyjamas first.” They gesture to your outfit, making you look down at yourself in confusion, “And take a shower too… You smell like the bacteria I’ve been studying for the last few months.”

“Right… “ You clear your throat embarrassedly. Minor detail, “Shower. Clothes. Girl.” You list out loud while trying to tune out the voices in your head still arguing with you about the decision you’ve clearly already made, “Got it.”

In reality, you really don’t.

* * *

You're standing outside the Summer House, all showered and dressed for the occasion. It’s a rather big, white house, with a surrounding porch and a huge front door in the middle. You’re about to knock when you’re suddenly hit with the feeling that you really didn’t think this through.

First of all, what are you even going to say? _Sorry I ran away from you last night, I just have a thing for dramatic exists_? Second of all, what are you even trying to achieve here? You like Danny, you really do, but when you think about it, how well do you even know her? Apart from having talked to her about authors as old as dinosaurs and the occasional mumble of words that you can manage around her, you actually haven’t talked to her much.

It makes you wonder who you actually know better… Danny or Carmilla?

You knock on the door before you change your mind. At the very least you want a chance to get to know her, “Eh, hi!” You wave awkwardly when a dark-skinned girl with curly hair opens the door. She doesn’t look impressed when she sees you.

“What do you want?” She snaps impatiently. Her eyes looking your tiny shell of a body over with one slow glance.

“Is… Danny in?” You ask warily, not really wanting to get on the bad side of this girl.

“Maybe.” She says with a clear edge to her voice, “Who wants to know?”

You frown at her offensiveness and open your mouth to answer her, when Danny suddenly appears and beats you to it, “Mel, back off, alright? Go make someone else’s life miserable…”

Mel rolls her eyes at both of you exaggeratedly before she stalks off offended. You raise your eyebrows and look at her retreating form with a scoff of disbelief. What the hell?

“Don’t mind her…” Danny says when she notices the look on your face, “Ever since I won the presidential election she’s had a stick so far up her —” She stops herself when she sees your amused look, “Sorry.” She laughs nervously (why is she nervous?), “So… what are you doing here?”

That’s a really good question, you think, as you look up at her anxious eyes, “I…” You look around and think this isn’t a conversation you want to have in the middle of the doorway where you’re sure every other Summer can hear it, “Can we talk somewhere else, maybe?”

Your question actually makes her look even more nervous, even makes her face fall a little, but she still nods a quiet _sure_ before she opens the door wider and gestures for you to come inside. You smile at her softly to try and calm her nerves before you walk inside the big house.

You don’t get to see much of the inside, though, as she leads you directly to the stairway in the entrance-hall and upstairs to one of the rooms, her room, you realise, when you step inside. The room is rather spacious, especially compared to yours, and she clearly doesn’t have a roommate either as there’s only one bed in the room. You’re not sure whether that’s a presidential benefit or a general Summer thing.

“So…” Danny says again after closing the door (somehow that makes _you_ feel kind of nervous), “What did you want to talk to me about?”

She’s still standing at the door, looking at you with anticipating eyes, as you’re standing in the middle of the room, not knowing where to look, so you just kind of end up looking at your feet. You want to sit down, but the only options are the desk chair or the bed…

“I… I wanted to apologise.” You finally confess quietly, and when you look up at her, she’s frowning at you in surprise.

“Apologise for what?”

“Last night…” You elaborate quickly, almost stumbling over the words you practiced on your way over here, but now seem to tumble out of your mouth in the incorrect order, “I had _a lot_ to drink and I —”

“Look, I get it, Hollis.” Danny cuts you off with a crestfallen look, clearly thinking she already knows where you’re going with this, “You don’t like me that way.”

“What?” You ask puzzled. You know you ran away from her, but you’re pretty sure making out with someone you’ve been fawning over for longer than you want to admit is pretty solid proof that you don’t want them to move into the friend-zone… right? “That’s not… that’s not what I’m saying.”

“It isn’t?” Danny asks quietly, a glint of hope sparking in her eyes, making her entire face seem more energised than it has since you knocked on the door.

“No?” You say, ignoring the fact that it sounds more like a question than a doubtless statement, “I wanted to apologise for running away like I did…”

“Oh…” She exclaims surprised before walking further into the room, scratching her head nervously, “Yeah… I wondered about that.” She adds softly before she sits down on her bed, hands curled together between her legs, “I tried texting you…”

“I know, I’m sorry…” You answer in a soft, quiet voice, as you move to sit down next to her on the bed, “I just needed some time to think. I’m not usually like that, you know, getting drunk and kissing hot girls at parties.”

Danny lets out a small laugh at this, “You think I’m hot, huh?” She teases you with a bump to your shoulder, which makes you turn your head away from her, as a blush suddenly spreads from your neck to your cheeks in a matter of seconds. A few moments of silence passes between you before she adds quietly, “You could’ve just told me that, you know.”

You know you could, but that’s not how you always work. Sometimes you just need to think things over by yourself before facing the situation at hand. You don’t blame Danny for not understanding that, though, so you just nod quietly in response before saying, “I know… It’s just… It’s just not how I imagined it happening, you know? And I think that maybe… maybe we should…“

You can’t really finish the sentence, because you honestly don’t know what you want. Part of you thought you would know the second you saw her, but you don’t, so you just kind of let the words hang in the air, and wish that Danny can fill the void of your indecisive mind.

“Slow things down a bit?” Danny tries to suggest. You nod quietly in response, almost automatically. That’s basically what you want, isn’t it? Time to get to know her, to see if you could be something more, “I can handle slow, Hollis.”

You turn your head and you can barely mask the relief that floods through your body like it’s washing away a hidden stone from your chest that you didn’t even know was there, “Yeah?”

“Yeah…” She repeats softly, the fond smile on her lips quickly transforming into a more teasing one, “But just out of curiosity, and for future reference, how _did_ you imagine it happening?”

You can’t help but let out a slightly embarrassed laugh, as you bump your shoulder with hers again. You also can’t help but thinking that it’s nice being around her like this, without pressure, without expectations… Slow is good.

* * *

You end up staying in Danny’s room for most of the evening. She gets take-out from the local Thai place down the road from campus and you spend the evening watching Buffy (something else you have in common) and talk about the general things in life like lit class, the Summers, the news… it’s not the deep, intense and sometimes even soul-wrenching conversations that you have with Carmilla, but it’s nice. Nice and easy.

You’re laying in her bed, watching another episode on the laptop in front of you, when your mind betrays you again and takes you to Paris. You’ve tried not to let it do that all evening, you _really_ have, but it’s like it has a mind of it’s own (no pun intended). You even abandoned your phone in your jacket by the desk in order not to be distracted by your urge to constantly check if she’s texted you. You’re here, with Danny, that’s what matters right now.

“Hey, where did you go, Hollis?” Apparently Danny noticed you tuning out this time. You hate that you have no idea what she just said to you.

“Gosh, I’m so sorry, Danny.” You apologise, and almost bang the back of your head into the wall behind you, “I think I’m still hungover.”

Danny lets out a small chuckle before she takes your hand in hers and squeezes it once, “No worries. I’m just wondering what could possibly pull your attention away from Buffy kicking some serious ass.”

A small, unconvincing smile tugs at the corner of your mouth, “Nothing…” You answer, but it comes out as a deep sigh, indicating that it is indeed _something_ , so you quickly clear your throat and repeat more firmly, “It’s nothing.”

You can feel the unconvinced and sceptical eyes on you, but all you can manage is a brief smile of reassurance in her direction. She keeps looking at you, even when you turn away again and try to focus on whatever is ending the world in the current episode of Buffy. Out of the corner of your eye, though, you see her nodding once, before she turns her head back to the laptop as well.

A few minutes pass, and although your eyes are trained on the screen, your mind is determined to be elsewhere. It’s like a constant pull and push in your body, where part of it wants to stay put, _knows_ it should stay put, and the other pushing you to give up your resolve and just follow your urge to check your stupid phone. Maybe something important happened, and someone needs your help with something? That’s how you reason what you do next, anyway.

“You okay, Laura?” Danny asks, worry tinting her voice when you get up from the bed to grab your phone at the desk.

“Yeah, I just gotta check something.” You smile at her reassuringly before taking out your phone. You can feel Danny’s worried and frowning eyes on you the entire time, but you can’t take your eyes away from the two messages you’ve received about an hour ago. One of them a picture.

Carm [09:15pm]: | [Picture]  
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Carm [09:15pm]: | … I dressed myself tonight. What do you think?  
  
Your eyes are literally glued to the picture she sent you; your mind probably goo. It’s from the same angle as the one you sent her, from the neck down. It’s only showing you the ends of her jet-black, wavy hair and her heart-stopping, _sexy_ outfit, not to mention the fair skin of her abdomen that are showing under her top (wait, is that a _corset?!_ ), but it’s enough for you to draw in a sharp breath through your nose and for the temperature of your body to raise several degrees.

“Did someone just snapchat you a nude or something?”

Your head snaps up in quick movement to meet a slightly amused but dubious expression on Danny’s face. This really isn’t the ideal situation to receive a picture like this, even if she is actually fully clothed, more or less.

“What? No!” You blush even more than you already are, “I just… It’s nothing.” You dismiss vaguely, making her frown at you, “Listen, it’s getting kind of late. I should probably head back to the dorms.” You apologise quietly, despite the fact that you were genuinely having a nice time with her, but you just really need some air all of a sudden… alone.

Your chest tightens slightly when you see the disappointment on her face. You don’t think she even tries to hide it, but she doesn’t say anything, as she moves slowly to sit on the edge of the bed and looks up at you briefly with uncertain eyes, “You can stay here if you want.”

Your brows raise in surprise. You honestly wasn’t expecting that at all. You hadn’t even thought about the possibility to be honest, so the suggestion completely catches you off guard. You think Danny notices, though, by the look on her face.

“I mean, just to sleep.” She blurts out quickly to rectify her statement, but she hadn’t needed to. You know Danny is the perfect gentlewoman. It’s one of the things that drew you in.

“I know…” You tell her, a soft smile tugging on your lips before your entire face falls a bit, “It’s just…”

“I know.” Danny cuts you off, understanding showing on her entire face, though, she can’t quite mask the slight disappointment there either, “Slow.”

You don’t know what to say, so you end up nodding your head twice in agreement, but you can’t quite seem to be able to look her in the eyes. Something in your chest, something heavy, won’t let you.

“Alright,” Danny suddenly clears her throat, as if she too could feel the tension in your chest, “I’ll walk you back.”

She’s already standing up before you have a chance to tell her not to, “No, it’s okay, thanks.” You smile, forcing yourself to look at her. She still frowns at you, though, like she doesn’t quite understand the words that came out of your mouth, “I can get back by myself.”

Her frown deepens, more in worry now than confusion, “Are you sure? It’s dark out and it’s really no bother at all.”

“I can take care of myself.” You answer quickly, strongly. You can, and you have, ever since you came to Silas. That's part of the reason you transferred here, after all, to prove to yourself, your dad, and everyone else that you _can_ take care of yourself.

“Laura —”

“Seriously, Danny, I’ll be fine.” You interrupt her with another reassuring smile, although slightly forced this time. This time she gives you a small, quiet nod in defeat before you both move out of the room and down to the front door.

“So…” Danny says shyly after opening the door for you, “Do we still have a date next week? Coffee?”

You turn around to face her outside on the porch, each of you on either side of the threshold. “Yeah…” You say quietly, a small smile appearing on your lips at the thought, “Of course we do.”

Your smile grows a little when you see the excitement glinting in her eyes. She doesn’t say anything else before she leans down slowly, warily, and kisses you softly on the cheek, “See you later, Hollis.”

* * *

When you walk through the (unsurprisingly) lively campus on your way back to the dorms, you can’t help but notice that despite the good time you just had hanging out with her, it’s not Danny who’s occupying your mind, but someone else… and all because of two silly messages.

But they weren’t silly… that’s just it. She knew exactly what to do to make things right with you, she knew exactly what you needed from her. And she gave it to you even though it went against her own instincts, her own thoughts and feelings. You take out your phone and look at the picture once more and yet again you feel the heat on the back of your neck sending a wave of warmth down your spine until your entire body seems too warm for the cold October night.

You’re completely absorbed in the picture, in the thoughts that are swirling around in your head, once again trying to solve the mystery of the girl on the screen; once again trying to imagine the rest of her, her face and her story. You think you might even be biting your lip in anticipation of what's beyond the edges of the picture.

It’s when you manage to stumble over an abandoned can of beer and nearly fall on your ass that you know that you can’t wait any longer. You need to hear her voice.

“ _Laura?_ ” The voice you were craving to hear nearly shouts into the phone when she finally answers. You can barely hear her over the loud music in the background, “ _Hang on, okay? I’m heading outside!_ ”

You don’t say anything, as a smile starts tugging on your lips. You’re fairly certain that she wouldn’t be able to hear you anyway, so you just keep quiet and wait for her to speak again. After a minute or so, you hear the music fade away in the background before she speaks again.

“ _Hey, you still there?_ ”

“I’m here.” You smile into the phone at the eagerness in her voice, “Are you busy? I didn’t mean to interrupt you.”

“ _I’m never too busy for you, cupcake._ ”

Your chest suddenly feels tight again, but not like it did earlier. Instead it feels full, _alive_ , as your skin starts tingling with an almost familiar sensation by now, as it always seem to do whenever you hear her voice.

“I like the sound of that.” You can’t help but respond as you capture your bottom lip between your teeth to stop the grin threatening to split your face in half, “I also really liked the picture you sent me…”

She lets out a huff of a laugh before she predictably says,“ _I told you, you would, didn’t I?_ ” You can practically hear the self-satisfied smirk in her voice and you can’t help the amused shake of your head, although she can’t see it, “ _I never got a chance to say this, but… I liked the picture you sent me too._ ”

You feel your heart swell in your chest at the small, but appreciated confession. You’re a bit surprised by the relieved puff of air that leaves your body. You weren't aware it was something you were even worried about.

“You did, huh?” You ask, but decide to tease her a bit, “That’s not really the impression I got.”

Silence meets you on the line for a while, but you can hear her soft, slightly uneven breathing and faint voices of people in the background. You know she’s still there, contemplating her next words carefully, no doubt.

“ _I know, cupcake._ ” She sighs deeply, “ _I kind of hoped the picture would make up for that._ ”

And it did. For some reason it did. It made up for vague non-answers, half-explanations and change of subjects, even if you did have to push her to do it. More importantly, it ignited a hope in you somewhere that maybe she’ll finally agree to take your friendship a step further, maybe you’ll finally get to learn more about her… maybe you’ll finally see her.

“Well, I accept your apology.” You say sincerely, but add rightfully so, “If you accept mine.”

She doesn’t hesitate when she answers, “ _It’s already done, sweetheart._ ”

You’re almost certain that your heart skips a beat, that part of you melts a little at the soft, but unwavering way she says it. You can’t help the way your urge to know her, to see her, seems to grow with that statement, because you _know_ that, for some reason, she’s got issues with letting you all the way in, and even when you push and overstep her boundaries, she still manages to push through her issues and take a leap with you. You don’t know why, but it’s kind of overwhelming, and you suddenly don’t know what to say.

“ _So, how was the rest of the party?_ ” Carmilla asks you, no doubt trying to fill the sudden silence between you, “ _Did you break any Zetas’ hearts?_ ”

The question kind of takes you off guard and you completely freeze in your step just outside your dorm building when the guilty feeling from earlier washes over you again like a wave hitting the rocks. You were so certain that your run-out on Danny last night was the real reason for that, but maybe you were wrong… maybe your first instinct was right after all. Part of you wishes it wasn’t.

The next words are out of your mouth before you can stop them, “Danny kissed me, my TA… or I kissed her. I’m not really sure.”

The line goes quiet again. Too quiet. You feel your chest tighten in that uncomfortable way again while your heart is thumping nervously against your ribcage and you chew on your bottom lip while awaiting her reaction. You shouldn’t feel like this though. You did nothing wrong - but why, then, does it feel like you did?

“ _Oh…_ ” She finally breathes out. Almost immediately, however, she clears her throat and when she speaks again, her voice somehow seems colder, more detached, “ _Well done, Tiger. You must be thrilled._ ”

Your heart feels like it falls a little lower in your chest before you answer with a slight edge to your voice, “I’m not really sure _thrilled_ is the right word.”

The response is even and cool, “ _Isn’t that what you wanted?_ ”

 _Yes_ , part of you feels like screaming into the phone, but more at yourself than Carmilla, really. You’ve been so focused on it, so focused on wanting to kiss Danny, of wanting to be around her at every possible opportunity, that this almost anti-climatic feeling you have after you finally _did_ kiss her makes you wonder if it's really what you wanted. If, perhaps, maybe, you don’t really know what you want, “I don’t know… I guess.”

“ _What, is she a bad kisser or something?_ ” Carmilla asks and almost manages to sound bored if it wasn’t for the slight edge to her own voice that she can’t quite lose.

“No. No, she’s not. That’s not it. It’s just…”

“ _What?_ ”

You don’t know what it is about her, but even when you can’t seem to make sense of your thoughts or find the right words, she always pushes you just the right amount for you to do so.

“It’s just that something didn’t feel right, okay?” You finally voice your thoughts out loud and start rambling, “At first I thought it was because of how drunk I was or the fact that I didn’t remember it properly, but now I’m not so sure, which is crazy because she’s really great and really smart and really gorgeous. I always turn into a puddle of goo whenever I’m around her…”

A few moments pass while you take deep shallow breaths to even out your breathing, “ _I’m not sure a puddle of goo can really measure your compatibility with someone, Laura._ ”

You knit your brows together in confusion. You’re not really following her logic, “What?”

“ _Forget it._ ” She answers swiftly with an almost frustrated sigh before taking another deep breath, “ _Look, it’s pretty simple, cupcake. Do you like the girl?_ ”

Another question from her you aren't exactly prepared for. A question you suddenly don’t know the answer to.

“I… Yeah, I mean… I guess so.” You finally say, because it’s true - you can’t think of anything you _don’t_ like about her and she’s great. You feel good around her.

“ _Well, then…_ ” Carmilla says with a final sigh, “ _I guess you have to go for it, don’t you?_ ”

You ignore your initial, almost disappointed, reaction and instead you kind of just nod to yourself quietly. You guess she’s right. At least you won’t know for certain unless you try. Besides, it’s not like you have a reason not to, right? At least not a reason that makes the least bit of sense.

“ _Listen, I gotta run, okay?_ ” She says when you haven’t said anything for a minute or so, her voice quiet and distant. A sort of panic grabs hold of you and you’re about to tell her not to - that you’ve missed talking to her all day - but she continues only a moment after, “ _I kind of promised Mattie a girls night out tonight, so… I’ll call you tomorrow?_ ”

There’s something in her voice that makes you doubt that she will for some reason. You can’t put a finger on what it is, though, but your heart is suddenly in your throat, jagged and choking you at the thought, so you can’t help it when you say, “Promise?”

It’s quiet again for a few long moments and then she finally lets out a deep, almost defeated sigh, “ _I promise._ ” You feel your entire body sag with relief before she lets you go,” _Sweet dreams… Laura._ ”

The call is disconnected, and with your name on her lips resonating in your ear, you can’t deny that you already miss the illusion of her presence that her voice gives you.


	8. Depth Over Distance Part I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Carmilla is torn between logical thoughts and irrational feelings. At the same time, new discoveries may lead her to have an unexpected change of heart, resulting in her taking quite the leap into the unknown, which Laura is not prepared for. At all. 
> 
> (Part one of two)

_Goddammit._

You kick the medium-sized crate placed against the wall in frustration, ignoring the stare of the people around you. You need to calm down. There’s _nothing_ to feel jealous about because there’s _nothing_ going on between you two. You have no right to feel like this. She can kiss whoever she wants. In fact, you’re _happy_ for her. May they live happily ever after in that Godforsaken place…

You don’t feel like going inside again (you’ll only spoil the mood if you do). What you’d really like right now is a shot of whiskey… and maybe a cigarette. You look around you and notice a group of girls smoking to the side of the entrance. One of them, a blonde, is blatantly eyeing you up.

 _What the hell…_ You think, as you try to suppress the ocean of emotions that one single phone-call with her has brought to the surface before making your way over there.

“Hey, can I bum a cigarette off you?” You ask the girl who’s practically undressing you with her eyes. She’s pretty; not too tall, not too small; grey eyes and blonde hair that reaches just below her shoulders. Still, you don’t bother with the usual flirty remark and dirty look that normally would’ve accompanied that request. You try not to put too much thought into that.

“Sure.” She answers with a dirty glint in her eye before she takes out another cigarette, and without breaking eye contact, she takes a step forward and places it between your lips. You don't break eye contact yourself, as she uses her own cigarette to light up yours, “Thanks.” You say after inhaling the toxins and exhaling the first puff of smoke. God, it's been a long time.

“You come here often?” The girl asks you with an amused smirk spreading on her lipstick-covered lips. She’s taking the piss out of a ridiculous, overused pick up line. You can appreciate that.

“Do I strike you as the kind of girl who does?” You raise your brow in a sly smirk, just because she's managed to pique your interest.

She's taking her time to look you over before she bites her lower lip and meets your gaze again, “Not really.” She finally smiles coyly before one of her friends tell her that they're heading inside again. She tells them to go ahead before she turns around to you again, “You wanna join me for a drink inside? I'm thinking this place might be more enjoyable with a drink or two.”

“Or five…” You think out loud, which makes her laugh (it's a nice laugh, it's just not… memorable), “Maybe I'll find you later.”

Some girls may have taken offence to that, but not this one. She simply cocks her head to the side and looks you over again appreciatively before she starts moving backwards to the entrance, “Maybe it'll be worth your while.”

You don't break eye contact before she turns around and disappears inside the club. You've just taken another drag of the cigarette she gave you, but suddenly it doesn't give you the same sensation as before. You have a feeling it's because you've found something else that offers you a much stronger solace; something that makes you feel alive at the same time; someone miles away.

You let the cigarette fall to the ground before you stamp it out. There's a part of you that wants to take the cab that’s parked at the street corner back to your apartment, hell, there's a part of you that wants to take it to the airport. You don't do either of those things, and part of you already regrets it, as you make your way inside the club again.

* * *

You're kind of surprised when you wake up in your own bed on Sunday morning. The room is spinning and you would honestly kill for a glass of water right now. You’re not surprised that you don’t remember much of last night, though. You don’t know if it’s your mind’s own strange defence mechanism or what, but things always tend to come back to you in pieces the day after, like it’s afraid you can’t handle it all at once. Sometimes you’ll remember all of it, sometimes not.

You grab your phone under your pillow and check the time - 11:34pm. A bit early for you, especially after a night out, but you’re pretty certain the vile taste in your mouth will prevent you from sleeping any more even if you try. Needing a glass of water, you practically roll out of bed and regrettably catch a glimpse of your reflection in the mirror on your way to the bathroom. Your hair is an absolute mess, you’ve got make-up smeared all over your face, including lipstick, which you don’t even remember wearing, and you’re pretty sure that’s drool on your Bon Jovi shirt. Lovely.

You continue your walk of death to the living room. Mattie is sitting at the kitchen island, drinking coffee and reading the news paper. She doesn’t even look up when she asks what’s clearly a rhetorical question, “How are you feeling, sis?”

You don’t bother answering, as you walk over to the sink while scratching your head thoughtfully, “What the hell happened last night?”

You remember going back into the club after you talked to Laura and you remember tuning in and out of conversations while your mind kept focusing on one particular piece of information she had shared with you…

“Well, it didn’t exactly turn out as the low-key evening you had planned, Kitty.” She answers nonchalantly, as she turns the page of the newspaper.

You gulp down the glass of water you just poured, “I kind of got that when I woke up with a herd of elephants tromping around my skull.”

_Danny kissed me, my TA… Or I kissed her._

You really wish you had managed to drink away that memory. It shouldn’t bother you this much. You’re the one who’s kept her more than an arms length away this entire time. You feel like there’s this constant echo inside your head reminding you over and over again that there’s nothing going on between the two of you, that there _can’t_ be, as the closest you’ve been to her is the calmness of her voice in your ear…

So why can’t you shake this feeling that there is… or there could be?

“I’m going to take a shower.” You announce in a feeble attempt to erase that recent thought from your mind while you remind yourself that she is, in fact, miles away… in Styria.

“Please do.” Mattie says, as you make your way to the bathroom, “You smell like an ashtray.”

You suddenly remember the girl from last night who gave you a cigarette, the blonde. You look down on your arm and see a name and a number written with a black marker.

 **_Gemma_ **  
**_01 00 75 09 12_ **

Last night is slowly coming back to you, the handwriting on your arm serving as sort of a trigger. 

_You push her up against the wall inside of the locked bathroom stall. Mouths are connecting again and again, hands are exploring body parts, hair is being gripped tightly… but your mind is not in it; your body barely._

_You pull away from her slightly, not understanding what’s happening. She’s hot. She’s willing. She’s right there. What’s wrong with you?_

_“You okay?” She asks you breathlessly when you don’t make a move to return your mouth to hers._

_“Yeah, no… I’m fine.” You lie with a small shake of your head before you lean in and capture her lips again; the red lipstick she was wearing already being smudged._

_It takes your mind about five seconds before Laura invades it again. Seriously, what is this?_

_You pull back again, but this time, you move to the opposite side of the stall, slam the back of your head against it and let out a small, drunken laugh,”You’ve got to be kidding me.”_

_“I’m guessing you’re not fine?” The blonde questions slightly amused._

_You look over at her flustered and messy appearance and feel kind of bad about leaving her hot and bothered, “Look, I’m sorry, you’re great. I just…” You slur kind of incoherently._

_“I get it.” She says, much to your surprise, “There’s someone else.”_

_You look up at the ceiling and shake your head again, it makes you feel kind of dizzy, “No. No, there isn’t… That’s what’s so_ unbelievably _stupid about this.”_

_You look over at her again when you sense her moving closer to you, “But you want there to be.” She says as she comes to a halt in front of you._

_She’s wrong. That’s what you want to tell her… instead you say nothing._

_She smiles knowingly before she looks around and notices the black marker hanging from a string on the door (apparently it’s encouraged to write drunken messages on the stalls here), “I’ll tell you what…” She says when she grabs the marker and reaches out for your arm before she starts writing,”Sort out what you want with this girl, and if it turns out I’m wrong… give me a call.”_

_She lets the marker fall against the door before she takes one last appreciative look at you,”I’m kind of hoping I’m wrong.” And then she turns around and walks out._

_You’re left alone in the stall, but you don’t move. You don’t move and all your mind can think about is this pure-hearted, tiny, brown-haired girl without a face making out with a ginger as tall as a tower. You have no problem imagining her, because you’re all too familiar with her undeniable resemblance to Xena. It’s Danny Lawrence ._

You’re sitting in the bathtub when you remember the conclusion your drunken mind came to last night. You sit up straighter and frown confused at yourself. You’re perfectly aware of how you feel about coincidences (that there are none), but this? Just because the Danny you “knew” was into girls and incidentally studied English when you left for Paris doesn’t necessarily mean that it’s same who’s been moving in on Laura for the past several months… right?

… The universe must _really_ hate you.

* * *

You’re sitting in your usual spot on the windowsill much later reading a book and desperately trying to distract your mind from the images you’re certain is now embedded permanently into your brain like the livestock branding of a defenceless animal.

Of all the people in the world… It just had to be Xena, didn’t it? If it wasn’t so tragic it would be hilarious. Of course there’s always the small chance that it’s not _her_ and it’s really just an odd coincidence. You sincerely doubt it though.

You abandon your book and grab your phone instead only to stare at it for an undetermined amount of time. You promised you’d call her… Question is: should you?

If the last week of late-night phone calls, half-pictures and apparently snooping around for information behind your back has taught you anything, it’s that there’s no escaping it. Pretending that you can somehow avoid giving up those essential pieces of yourself if you want to keep her in your life just isn’t an option anymore. You know that. She’s too stubborn and too curious to leave it alone… and you’re no longer sure if you want her to.

You’re not sure what that means exactly. On one hand, you’re definitely not ready to just hand over all of your deepest and darkest secrets to her. It’s a sure way to make her never want to speak to you again, and even if she can accept your past and who you used to be, you’re not ready to open up those wounds again, not yet. On the other hand, you feel like you’re being selfish with her, taking whatever you want, whatever you need, but not giving anything back. In the last few weeks you’ve felt like something is blocking your connection, like you’ve reached a check-point, and you can either continue on into the unknown and see where it brings you, if it brings you closer or not, or you can stop right now and never look back.

You like to pretend it’s a choice; you like to pretend that you don’t already know what you’re going to choose the second you know you have to make a decision. You’re not sure it’s the right choice and you’re almost positive that it’s going to end badly one way or another.

You look down on your arm again and without thinking much about it, you erase the last of the black marker that the water earlier didn’t already rinse off.

* * *

Carmilla [08:14pm]: | What are you doing right now?  
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You stare at the screen of your phone until the bubble with the three dots appear informing you that she’s texting you back. You’ve always hated that function. It makes you feel even more impatient, as you anxiously tap your fingers on your knee, feeling your heartbeat increase slightly with each passing second.

Cupcake [08:16pm]: | Studying… Sort of. You? :)  
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Carmilla [08:16pm]: | Are you alone?  
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You text her back immediately and once again you’re awaiting her reply. The three dots appear again and your heart is suddenly in your throat, almost fighting it’s way out of your body. The dots disappear again, but there’s no message. A frustrated groan leaves your lips and you think the anxiety of this situation might actually end up killing you.

You finally receive her answer and you can’t help the shaky, trembling exhale of breath that leaves your mouth.

Cupcake [08:18pm]: | Um… yeah? Betty’s out. Why?  
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There’s no going back once you do this, you know that. Maybe she’ll know who you are when she sees you, maybe she won’t. Maybe it’ll change everything, and maybe it’ll be for the better, maybe it’ll be for the worse. Either way, it’s a risk.

Cupcake [08:25pm]: | Carm?  
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Your heart is hammering against your ribs, pressing against your chest from the inside. You jump down from the windowsill and try to pace away the nerves before you give up and sit down at your desk. Your hands are sweaty, you notice, when you move one to the touchpad on your laptop.

It’s not all nerves, though. There’s a simmering beat of excitement thumping just beneath your skin, one you can’t ignore, but one that’s also nearly drowned out by the hammering noise of your unsteady heartbeat. You’re having second thoughts, you know you are, but in the end it’s your failed ability to imagine her face when she realises what you’re doing that pushes you to do it. It’s the possibility that you may finally see her face that makes you press the button.

### Meanwhile in Styria

It’s been over ten minutes since Carmilla asked you if you’re alone right now. You haven’t heard from her all day and this is the bizarre way she chooses to start a conversation with you? You honestly don’t get her sometimes.

You’re sitting in front of your laptop at your desk, trying (and failing) to do the assignments on your Shakespeare reading. You’re so completely concentrated on the document in front of you that you nearly jump five feet in the air when both your phone and laptop starts ringing. You frown at your laptop screen and sees that Carmilla is calling you, but she’s not just calling you, you realise. She’s _video_ calling you.

_Holy. Hufflepuff._

Your mind is blank. Literally blank. It’s like it freezes for half a second or two before it dawns on it what’s happening. A string of curse words that you’d never, _ever_ say out loud, run through your mind then, as you look down at yourself and realise that _yes_ , you are in fact still in your red tank-top and pyjamas pants, and _no_ , you haven’t showered or even bothered to brush your hair. _It’s Sunday_ , for Skrillex’ sake.

Your devices ring a third time and you panic. You look to the right side of your laptop on your cluttered desk and notice a brush (you’re not even sure if it’s yours). You grab it and with a few, quick brushes you manage to somehow tame the nest that is your hair.

It’s just after the fourth ring and you’re pretty sure you have about 5 seconds to decide whether or not to pick up. As much as you wish you had time to not only physically prepare for this, but also mentally prepare, you won’t let this chance pass. You don’t know if it’s the only one you’ll get and… it’s time. You need to see this girl for yourself. You need to see her to know that she actually does exist.

You try to steady your erratic heart that’s surely about to beat it’s way out of your chest, as you take a deep breath, before accepting the incoming call.

Your heart is anything but steady the moment you finally see her in front of you.

### Back in Paris

Your brows immediately raise in utter surprise and amazement, you’re stunned, as your eyes try to take in every part of her at the same time; everything from her long, brown hair to her cute rounded nose, her perfectly shaped and slightly parted rosy lips… her _eyes_. They’re the perfect shade of brown, complimenting every other of her features to perfection. You couldn’t have imagined this girl in your head no matter how much or how long you tried.

“ _Um… Hi…_ ” Her voice trembles when she greets you, her voice suddenly sounding differently to you than the one you’ve become familiar with. It’s somehow sharper, as if everything came together the moment you saw her.

Her ethereal brown eyes are staring at you, you realise, with much the same expression as you imagine yours to be (or so you’d like to think). Her flawless skin is increasingly turning the same colour as the red tank-top she’s wearing. You can’t help but find it endearing to watch the blush spread from her neck to her entire face, but at the same time, you don’t remember ever quite seeing such a divine sight before. It makes you smile.

“Hey…” You try to smirk, but you just kind of end up smiling at her. You’ve only just seen her face, seen for yourself that this girl is very much real, and she’s already ruining your game (a part of you doesn’t even mind).

Neither of you say anything else, and it’s honestly a whole lot of awkward, as you kind of just look at each other and laugh nervously. You think it must be kind of strange and incredibly surreal for both of you to finally put a face to the person you’ve been talking to for almost three months. And it is, but… in a good way, you have to admit. She’s also yet to exclaim that she knows who you are, which makes you believe you had nothing to fear after all… not yet, at least.

You decide that you should probably break the awkward silence. You did call _her_ after all, “I’m sorry for interrupting your studying…” You say, an amused smile tugging on your lips. Something tells you that she doesn’t mind _that_ much.

“ _You can interrupt me_ anytime _…_ ” She blurts, before her eyes grow larger and she bites down on her lower lip, as if it was a thought of hers that slipped out unintentionally. Your smile slowly fades into the smirk that were just begging to come forth.

“Is that so…?” You ask, deliberately lowering your voice a bit before you quote her own words from last night, “I like the sound of that.”

You love how you’re able to actually _see_ the way she swallows nervously in response to your voice, how her eyes grow a little darker, her lips parted now, and how she shifts slightly in her seat. It’s a sight to behold.

She clears her throat after she seems to realise that she’s staring at you, and averts her gaze shyly before she says, “ _I’m pretty sure I’m going to fail my lit class, though, if you do._ ”

The mentioning of her lit class pulls you out of the daze you found yourself in, as it naturally makes you think of Danny. Danny _and_ Laura. Together. You’re really not digging that image in your head. Not that you ever did, but now it’s so much more vivid with her sitting right in front of you, a shy smile tugging on those perfectly shaped lips of hers.

“Big deal…” You say evenly, successfully trying to sound disaffected about it, “Aren’t you practically dating your TA?”

She seems shocked that you’d say that, “ _What? Danny? I’m really not…_ ” She says before she frowns thoughtfully and adds, “ _At least I don’t think so…_ ” She shakes her head at herself, “ _Even if I were… An ‘A’ is a sacred trust._ ”

Apparently your mouth has decided to start speaking without permission since you’re now able to look at her in all her glorious form, “If I was your TA, you wouldn’t even have to ask.”

There’s a moment where you’re just gazing at each other; you in all seriousness and her in quiet surprise. It’s definitely _a moment_ , you think, and something tells you it’s a moment beyond mere attraction; it’s a moment of connection.

She ends up averting her gaze suddenly, shaking her head like she isn’t sure what just happened, before she clears her throat and says, “ _That’s a bit unethical, don’t you think? Considerate… but unethical._ ”

“Hm… remind me to tell you my thoughts on ethics one day.” You answer with a sly smile as she looks up at you again. You could honest to God look at her all day. You think your eyes may be glued to the screen permanently as long as she’s in front of you. Why didn’t you do this months ago?

You fall into a slightly more comfortable silence, as you keep looking at each other with amazement and like you can’t quite believe that you’re seeing the other person. Like you need to save the image of the other to memory while you still can; like you’re dreaming.

“ _So…_ ” She drags out slowly and briefly looks down from the screen only to look up at you again a moment after, making a strand of her soft-looking hair escape across her eye.

Your hand twitches beneath the desk with the urge to move it behind her ear with a soft stroke, and you have to stop yourself from actually reaching out to do so. You realise then that even if she allows you to do so, it wouldn’t actually be physically possible. The thought is kind of depressing.

“So…” You repeat slowly as well and realise that you haven’t actually discussed the elephant in the room; that is, the fact that you video-called her out of nowhere, “For the sake of clarity,” you continue when she doesn’t say anything else, “I’m really _not_ disappointed, cupcake. Quite the opposite, really.”

Your signature smirk spreads across your face with that last sentence. You’re getting more comfortable, which is good. You don’t want things to change between you. You don’t want her looking at you in any other way than she is right now.

She chuckles lightly before she answers (… _the smile_. There are honestly no words, so you don’t even try), “ _Well, I’m glad you’re not…_ ” She smiles adorably before continuing in a lower voice, “ _And, you know, I’m…_ obviously, _not disappointed either. I mean… wow._ ”

It’s definitely not the first time girls (or guys, for that matter) have reacted to your looks in a positive manner. You’ve experienced your fair share of head turns, catcalls and compliments in the past, but… you’ve never quite felt as flattered as you do right now. You haven’t felt your heart skip a beat or the liquifying sensation of your limps or the flush of blood heating up your skin quite like you do now. And you can’t explain why.

“ _What, no sly innuendos or even a sexually charged ‘I told you so, cupcake’?_ ” She jokes when you’re at a loss for words, “ _That’s a first._ ”

You quickly regain your remarkable way with words, though, “I wasn’t aware that was something you found so endearing about me, cutie.” You smirk at her knowingly, “And _that_ is something I’m allowed to call you now, right? I mean, now that I’ve seen for myself that you are, in fact, cute.”

Her skin is suddenly blending together with her tank-top again and you’re honestly loving every second of this; every moment you get to do that and see how you can affect her with your own eyes.

“Of course, _cute_ doesn’t quite cut it, if you ask me.” You continue before she has a chance to say anything, “It’s much too… inadequate.”

She’s shaking her head amused at you, letting out a small laugh in the process, but she can’t seem to control the blush, although, she seems to be trying to, “ _Alright there, Romeo._ ” She shoots back, which only makes it that much more satisfying to you, “ _Feel free to stuff it._ ”

You let out a small laugh before you answer, “Fine… but I’m only telling it how I see it, cupcake.”

“ _Uh huh…_ ” She nods unconvinced. There’s a part of you that want to insist to her that every single thing you just said was true, but you don’t. You quite enjoy the banter too; in fact, you love it.

“Romeo, huh?” You knit your brows together amused instead.

“ _Mmh, we’ve moved on to Shakespeare in lit class._ ” She says before she raises a copy of Shakespeare’s _Romeo and Juliet_ in front of her, “ _Thought it was suiting._ ”

You can’t help but roll your eyes. You’re not a big fan of Shakespeare as it is, or rather, you’re not a fan of the way his plays are portrayed in popular culture.

“You know, Romeo really wasn’t the big romantic that everyone makes him out to be.” You can’t help but comment, making her frown at you in question, “He’s just exceptionally good with words, but really he’s just a hormonal teenage boy who doesn’t know the difference between love and lust.”

She seems to find this argument rather entertaining, “ _And you’re not?_ ”

“A hormonal teenage boy?” You question, although, you know what she meant, “Not the last time I checked…”

“ _No…_ ” Laura rolls her eyes at you with a smile threatening to take over, “ _Exceptionally good with words?_ ”

You raise your eyebrow amused, before you start quoting by memory in the low voice you know affects her more than she’d probably like to admit,  
“If I profane with my unworthiest hand  
This holy shrine, the gentle sin is this:  
My lips, two blushing pilgrims, ready stand  
To smooth that rough touch with a tender kiss.”

She’s looking at you in amazement and with darkened eyes; her skin starts to blush again and her rosy lips parts slightly. You’re not surprised by her reaction, yet, the feelings erupting in your own chest at the sight of her does.

“This is exactly my point, cupcake.” You say with a sly smirk once you’ve steadied your heartbeat enough that your voice won’t be affected by it, “They are just words elegantly put together. What he really wants is just to get laid.”

She can’t help but scoff amused, the daze she was in momentarily broken by your blunt statement, “ _So what you’re really saying is that you, and Romeo, uses words to seduce women in order to get them to bed?_ ”

It’s obviously not the way you expected the conversation to go when you started the discussion, but you kind of like that about her, her ability to surprise you; to push you off of your high horse. It’s somehow frightening and refreshing all at the same time.

“I… That’s not…” You start, but for the third time since you called her tonight, you’re at a loss for words. You don’t want her to think of you like that despite the fact that there may be some truth to it, but you don’t want to lie to her either… or, rather, you don’t want to lie to her more than you already are.

The thing is, when you first called her tonight, you wanted to come clean… at least about where you’re from and about having attended Silas, but you know that if you do, she’ll start looking for the rest of the answers to finish the puzzle herself. She’ll probably start with her friends, with Danny… If there’s one thing you’re sure of, it’s that Xena definitely won’t have anything nice to say about you and it wouldn’t surprise you if she did everything in her power to prevent Laura from ever speaking to you again.

 _No_. You can’t do it. You need to be the one to tell her your story before someone else does, before anyone else has the chance to influence the way she thinks about you, but not now, not yet. You’re not ready to risk this, whatever it is… but then again, maybe you already are.

“I can help you with your Shakespeare reading…” You change the subject rather blatantly when she does nothing but look at you with a thoughtful expression, like she’s studying you, “… If you want.”

Her brows are knitted together in careful thought as she seems more intent on figuring you out than get back to studying. You don’t give anything away though, and you don’t intend to, as you avert your eyes from her scrutinising look.

It takes her a few moments to let it go, and despite the fact that you can still hear the intrigue in her voice, the slight confusion, she still smiles softly when you briefly glance up at her before she says, “ _Sure… That’d be great._ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, the smell of a change of pace... lovely, isn't it? As noted, this was the first part of the chapter, the second is going to start off where this left off, but from Laura's POV instead, which is why the ending of this chapter may seem a bit... abrupt... to some. Also, next chapter will feature more fluff, some well-needed insights and a lot of frustrations. =)


	9. Depth Over Distance Part II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Laura is finding herself more and more infatuated with Carmilla, and her extremely attractive looks is not helping her at all. Carmilla unveils a bit about her past to satisfy the curiosity of the tiny gay, but it only makes her even more curious than she was to begin with.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all - so sorry about the delay on this chapter. I've had a lot going on on top of a minor writer's block, but here we are (finally)! Second of all - CONGRATULATIONS ON SEASON 3, CREAMPUFFS. We fucking did it, didn't we? Nearly had a heart attack when I watched the Valentine's Q&A. I honestly wasn't expecting them to announce it like that, so props to them. Third of all - There's a lot of dialogue in this chapter, I'm aware, but hopefully the amount of fluff will make up for it. 
> 
> Anyway, enough talk. Enjoy little ones x

You’re staring. You know you are. 

Or maybe you’re perving. It’s a fine line between the two, but your eyes can’t help but take in every part of her that’s visible to you; the length of her legs that are currently in view since she put her feet on the desk; the fair skin where her shirt has ridden up just above her hipbones that seems to be begging to be touched; the way her graceful fingers hold the worn book she’s reading like it’s a priced possession, the way you suddenly wish to be held… her _face_. 

Most of all, your eyes are focused almost solely on her face. You’re supposed to be doing the reading for your next class, but all you can focus on is the perfectly sculpted jawline of hers and how it frames her face beautifully in the most newfangled of ways; her features are strong, confident, but then you look at her bottom lip that’s slightly tugged in between her teeth in concentration, and how her furrowed expression emphasises this as her dark, passionate eyes dance across the pages, absorbing the words she’s undoubtedly read a thousand times. The sight almost makes her look young, vulnerable… and you can’t look away. You can barely believe she’s real. 

You’re busted a few moments later when she looks up at you, as if she can feel your gaze on her. Her penetrating, dark eyes locks with yours instantly and it feels like all of the air in your lungs are knocked out of you, like you’re seeing her for the first and for the thousandth time all at once. It’s a strange, contradicting feeling, but one you can’t help but embrace. 

“ _What?_ ” She asks a bit warily, breaking the moment. You can tell she’s uncertain all of a sudden, like she’s not sure what you’re thinking. You’re kind of glad she doesn’t.

“Nothing…” You manage to almost whisper as the ghost of a smile tugs on your lips before it takes over your face completely and you smile almost _too_ innocently. 

“ _Did you finish the next act?_ ” She asks you, still a bit warily, while she moves her feet off the desk and sits up straight again. She closes the book she’d been reading and puts it on the desk without breaking eye-contact with you. You simply nod at her question, “ _And how long have you been perving on me, cupcake?_ ” 

“A while.” You admit boldly with a tiny smirk, surprising both of you, you think, when you notice her otherwise fair skin redden slightly. The sight makes your heart thump a little harder, a little faster against your rib, “And I wasn’t perving… I was just… looking.”

“ _Uh huh…_ ” She says unconvinced while looking you directly in the eye still with a mischievous smile on her lips before she lowers her voice and asks, “ _Do you see something you like then?_ ”

You inhale sharply as your eyes widen at her words, or rather, her _voice_. You have a feeling she’s very much aware of the effect she’s having on you. A part of you can’t help but wonder how many girls she’s deliberately affected like this, but you decide to push the thought away… it’s none of your business, really, is it?

You swallow nervously before composing yourself by shifting a bit in your seat, “Maybe…” You answer, a smile tugging on the corner of your mouth. You’re not about to give her the satisfaction of entrapping you in her spell too easily. 

A sly grin appears on her face, as she leans forward a bit, bringing her face closer to the screen, “ _That’s not how I recall you reacting earlier, sweetheart…_ ”

You’re perfectly aware that your less than eloquent _wow_ earlier isn’t exactly helping your non-existent case right now, but despite the fact that it must be obvious to both of you where you really stand on this matter, you can’t help but continue this little game of yours. 

“Maybe you don’t recall correctly…” You tease her and you have to bite down on your lower lip in order not to smile too brightly.

She breaks eye-contact immediately as her eyes shift downwards to your lips instead, “ _Mmh… I don’t think that’s it…_ ” She responds in a quiet, pensive voice that completely knocks the air out of you again. At this rate, you’ll die of oxygen deprivation sooner rather than later. 

When she looks up again, her eyes seem even darker than they were a moment ago and you swear you can _see_ her chest rise and fall to the same unsteady rhythm as the beat of your heart. 

The moment is broken when your phone starts playing _Seven Wonders_ by Fleetwood Mac, shocking both of you out of whatever was happening (what _was_ actually just happening?). You panic at first, like you’re caught doing something you aren’t supposed to be doing, only to look down at your phone a moment after and frown at the caller ID on your screen. For a brief moment you forget that you’re not alone. Not really, anyway.

“ _What?_ ” Carmilla asks you after the third ring. You think you hear worry tinting her voice, but you’re not sure if it’s just wishful thinking or if she actually _is_ worried about your stunned silence. 

“It’s my dad.” You croak out without looking up from your phone, “He always calls this late, you know, because of the time difference.”

You notice her nod silently out of the corner of your eye. You already told her that you used to live in a small town in Canada before moving to Toronto to study and eventually Styria. You can’t help but briefly linger on the fact that you still don’t know where she lived before Paris… why she left home in the first place. 

“ _You haven’t talked to him yet?_ ” Carmilla asks, a slight edge to her voice indicating she doesn’t approve of this fact. You have a feeling it’s because she’s told you multiple times to call him, mainly because she knows how much you hate fighting with him. You don’t want to disappoint her by your own sheer cowardliness, so you remain quiet. It’s the only answer she needs, “ _Laura._ ” She says, her voice reprimanding, yet, her voice caresses your name in the most comforting, reassuring way that lets you know that she understands. She understands why you haven’t called him and she understands why you need to, “ _Call him back._ ”

You frown confused as you finally look up at her again, the phone already silent, “What, now?” 

“ _Yes, now.”_ She more or less commands, but her eyes are looking at you with such care that you hardly notice anything else. You want to call him back, you really do, but at the same time the last thing you want is to hang up on Carmilla… not when you’re finally able to look into those dark eyes of hers, not when she’s right there in front of you, even if it is through a screen. Apparently she’s also a mind-reader, “ _You can just call me back or mute the mic or something…_ ”

You nod your head quietly, but for some reason you don’t intend to do either of those things as you simply tap down on your dad’s contact ID and press the phone to your ear while anxiously listening to it call him back. The surprised look on her face doesn’t go unnoticed by you. 

“Dad… It’s me.” 

You don’t look at her while you speak to your dad, but you can feel her there with you the entire time like an invisible touch of reassurance.

He’s apologising, and so are you, just like you always are. Part of you knows that you’re both only apologising because you hate not speaking to the other and not because you feel like you’ve done anything wrong… but for now it’s enough. For now you’ll let it go and once again hope he’ll understand that you need to live your own life and make your own choices. That you can take care of yourself. That you’re not like your mom. 

“ _All good, cupcake?_ ” She asks once you hang up. She’s been pretending to read her book again, but you know she’s heard the entire conversation - at least your end of it. There’s something about it you find comforting, but you can’t explain why. 

“For now…” You say with a small smile, and for some reason you know that you don’t have to elaborate. Not with her. 

She nods quietly as she puts the book away on the desk in front of her again, “ _He’ll come around eventually._ ” She says, confirming yet again the undeniable and inexplicable understanding you share, “ _You’ll see._ ”

“And what if he doesn’t?” 

“ _He will._ ” She says firmly, never breaking eye-contact, “ _He’d be stupid not to._ ”

The seriousness in her voice kind of surprises you, but although you can’t help but doubt her confidence in your dad, it’s somehow enough to reassure you for the time being. 

“Thank you…” You say genuinely, a small smile spreading across your lips until your eyes briefly shift to the top of the screen and you realise what time it is, “Ugh, I should really get to bed soon. I’ve got class in the morning.”

It’s brief, but you don’t miss the disappointed look on her face when you tell her this. The look is enough for you to consider skipping class tomorrow altogether and stay up with her all night long. 

” _You could always skip it…_ ” She says quietly, a mischievous, but hopeful glint in her eye. Part of you seriously consider whether she can actually read your mind or not… 

A small laugh escapes your lips, “Why do I have a feeling you’re gonna be a bad influence on me?” 

“ _Maybe because you secretly want me to be._ ” 

The sly smirk spreading across her face is enough to make your insides turn restlessly and for a rush of heat to run through your body. You’re glad she can’t see how you’re currently squeezing your thighs together under the desk. 

“Maybe…” You respond cheekily, making her lift her brows in quiet surprise as her smirk broadens even further. The thought of hanging up on her now is not a thought you entertain for long, so instead you bite down on your bottom lip playfully before you start unplugging your laptop from the charger. 

She’s watching you observantly, clearly unsure about what you’re up to, “ _What are you doing, cupcake?_ ”

“I’m taking you with me.” You explain, as you pick up the laptop and walk into the only other adjoining room.

“ _Taking me with you where, exactly?_ ”

You place the laptop with care on the small space on the vanity top next to the sink before you look back at the screen with a small grin threatening to take over your face, “To the bathroom.”

“ _Didn’t realise we had reached this point in our relationship, cutie._ ” She responds amused, “ _But, hey, you know what they say, if you gotta go, you gotta go._ ”

You roll your eyes at her, but the smile stays in place, “Funny.” You say as you reach for your toothbrush and the toothpaste in the holder next to the sink, “There’ll be no… doing _that_. I’m just gonna brush my teeth.”

She watches you with amused and almost fond eyes as you put your toothbrush in your mouth and start brushing. You don’t break eye-contact and instead you stare right back at her, daring her to say anything about the events that are currently unfolding. 

“ _You’re very thorough._ ” She finally comments a good while after, a brow raised in amusement. 

“Owal eyegene’s mportan.” You mumble around your toothbrush and manage to drool down your own chin. You really are a charmer.

She’s biting down on her bottom lip in order not to laugh, but the look in her eye is of such affection that you don’t actually mind, “ _Sorry, cupcake, I don’t speak mumble._ ”

You spit out the toothpaste and rinse your mouth (and chin) before you repeat properly, “I said, oral hygiene is important.” She doesn’t seem to pay much attention to what you just said, yet her eyes haven’t left yours, “What?”

“ _You’re adorable._ ” She states shamelessly. Your cheeks heat up again, as do the rest of your skin as she continues to stare at you. You eventually let out a breath of a laugh and shake your head before you lift up the laptop again and walk back to the other room, “ _And what are you doing now?_ ”

“Taking you with me.” You echo your own words again as you walk around the room and turn off the lights before you put down the laptop on your bed and crawl on top of it yourself, “To bed.”

“ _Now you’re talking._ ”

You shake your head at her yet again in a quiet laugh (you seem to be doing that a lot), “I didn’t mean it like _that_.” You say, a lot more flustered than you’d like to admit, “I’m just getting ready for bed.”

You explain this while snuggling down under your duvet, moving and turning until you find the most comfortable position on your side, facing Carmilla on the screen, with the duvet tugged just above your chin and the laptop being the only light illuminating your face. 

“ _Comfortable?_ ” Carmilla asks amused when you finally stop moving. 

You let out a tired yawn before answering, “Snug as a bug in a rug.” 

One of the brightest smiles you’ve seen on her face so far is spreading across her features despite her biting down on her bottom lip to try and stop it. Your heart swells at the sight and you’re glad most of your face is currently hidden behind your duvet because you’re pretty sure your reaction is an identical face-splitting smile. She seems almost surprised by her own reaction though, as she averts her gaze a moment later, bowing her head away from you in a thoughtful frown. 

She physically shakes off whatever just took over her before she looks up again, the bright smile replaced entirely by a thoughtful one, if not a bit mischievous. 

“What?” You ask with a wary smile. You’ve known her long enough to know that she’s up to something, which is confirmed a moment later when she stands up from the desk she’s been sitting at. 

“ _I’m getting ready for bed too._ ” She states before she walks over to the big closet across the room. 

“Oh…” You exclaim surprised, and for a second you think she might actually start changing in front of you before she grabs a shirt from the closet and walks out of sight. You’re kind of relieved, but also kind of disappointed… mostly the latter. “Can I ask you a question?” You ask, taking advantage of the fact that you can’t see her, but you can hear her, so you assume she’s still in the room. 

“ _Sure._ ” She says from somewhere in the room before she’s suddenly standing in front of the screen again, a shirt in hand, and wearing only jeans, a black lace bra and a sly smirk on her lips, “ _But I may not answer._ ”

You completely forget what you were going to ask her as you gape over the newly revealed skin of her upper body. Your mind can’t even function enough to try and hide the fact that you’re so blatantly _perving_ right now, but you can’t help it. Even through the screen, at a slight distance, you're able to see her elegant collarbone just above the soft swell of her breasts that are complimented by the black lace. You're able to sense how her muscles work beneath the skin just as she pulls the shirt she was holding over her head and -- _wait, no!_ You look up at her playful expression, with a shocked, and flustered, one of your own. She’s doing this on purpose. 

“You…” You start, meaning to call her out on it, but your voice fails you, no doubt as a result of the sight you just witnessed and the sudden heat between your thighs. It only makes her seem that much more satisfied with herself, which is what makes you pull it together, “I know what you’re doing.”

“ _Yeah?_ ” She asks all too innocently as she sits down on the edge of her bed a few feet behind her desk before she starts pulling off her jeans, “ _And what’s that, cupcake?_ ”

Once again you’re distracted by the newly exposed fair skin of her legs that looks so incredibly smooth and soft and the only thought currently on your mind is how much you want to run your hands up and down them. Stupid screen. 

“I…” What were you saying again? “Carm!” You groan, and actually manage to sound genuinely reprimanding despite how little you mind seeing this much of her. 

She seems to get the message, though, and takes a deep breath before exclaiming a slightly disgruntled, slightly tired, “ _Fine_.” She gets up from the bed, walks to the desk again (and you try not to stare at her legs as she does) before she unplugs the laptop and moves it to her bed instead. She disappears for a few moments to turn off the lights before she positions herself a lot like you have. When she’s finally laying down on her side, the laptop illuminating her face, she takes another deep breath and says, “ _Shoot._ ”

You don’t waste any time, afraid you might get distracted again, “Why now?” You ask the question that’s been at the back of your mind most of the evening, “Why did you decide to video call me tonight? I mean, you practically _freaked out_ on me over a picture that wasn’t even a full picture…” You notice her impatient look and decide not to dwell on past events and instead you ask, “What changed?”

You notice how her jaw clenches and unclenches slightly, as if the question is physically hard for her to answer. You give her a moment to gather her thoughts. 

“ _I figured it was either this, letting you see that I’m real, or you’d stop talking to me…_ ” She says, the most insecure you’ve ever sensed her to be. You have a feeling it’s a rare sight, but you still can’t help but linger on the fact that she seems to be doing this for you only, “ _Besides… I was getting tired of not being able to imagine you in my head when I’d say or do things I knew would make you all flustered — kind of like right now._ ”

Or maybe not, you think, when she adds the last part. You try to hide the blush behind your duvet, but apparently you’re not doing a very good job. You’re also very much aware that she’s trying to change the subject again… this time you won’t let her. 

“But you still won’t tell me where you’re from, why you left?” You say more as a statement than a question because you somehow already know this as a fact, “Why’s that?”

“ _That’s more than one question, cutie._ ” She says, half-teasing, half-serious, but you continue your serious stare, not letting her distract you again, “ _You’re not letting this go, are you?_ ” She finally asks a few moments of staring later. You’re really not. It’s time for some answers, “ _Fine…_ ” She exhales deeply with an exaggerated eye-roll. She doesn’t continue right away though, but you don’t push her. You can tell by the sudden haunted, torn look in her eye that she’s debating with herself how to start, or maybe if she should start at all, “ _The truth is I… It’s… I…_ ”

“It’s okay…” You say reassuringly out of instinct. You’re actually not sure if it is, but this is Carmilla. How bad can it be? 

“ _My past is… eventful._ ” She finally manages to say. You stay quiet and try to be patient with her despite every instinct in your body wanting to ask her the thousand questions that suddenly popped into your mind at once, “ _I… I did some things I’m not proud of, and even if I could’ve someday found a way to put it behind me, the people who live there never would. So I left, and I started over._ ” She tells you more than you thought she would, but you somehow know it’s all she’ll tell you by the guarded look that appears in her eyes, “ _Besides, being 700 miles away from Mother? How could I not jump on the first plane to Paris?_ ”

700 miles? You’re not sure if she notices her slip-up, but that certainly narrows it down. 700 miles from Paris limits her home-town to central Europe at least. The thought of being closer to solving the mystery almost makes you forget what she could’ve possibly done to make her leave her home… if it wasn’t the core of the mystery, that is. 

“What happened?” You ask, although, you already know she won’t answer, but you can’t help your curiosity, “Back home, I mean.”

She smiles at you like she knew you’d ask, “ _I have to keep some of my secrets… otherwise I’ll lose my air of mystery, won’t I?_ ”

You’re not sure you agree with that statement, at all, quite the opposite really. Her air of mystery is hardly what you find so intriguing about her… Baby steps, you think, and she’ll eventually open up about it. That’s what you tell yourself anyway, as you nod silently at her blatant way of telling you the conversation is over, but you can’t help but feel a little disappointed. 

“ _Cupcake…_ ” She says, undoubtedly noticing the disappointment on your face, “ _Trust me, it’s better if you don’t know._ ”

“For me… or for you?” You can’t help but ask, and you kind of expect her to snap at you for pushing this, but instead she looks thoughtful for a second before her eyes turn sad. 

“ _Good question._ ” Is all she says, and because you can tell how bothered she is, how much her past is clearly still haunting her despite the fact that she ran away and tried to start over, you don’t question it. 

You yawn again, and as much as you could probably stay like this forever with her, you can barely keep your eyes open at this point. She seems to pick up on this fairly quickly. You don’t know if she’s usually this perceptive or if it’s just with you…

“ _I think it’s past your bedtime, sweetheart._ ” 

Like always, she seems to be more awake than ever, so you choose to ignore her comment and instead ask, “Do you ever sleep?”

“ _Not during the night if I can help it._ ” 

“So, you’re a vampire then?”

She lets out a small laugh at this, “ _Yeah, I’m a 300 year old vampire studying philosophy and in my spare time I like to suck people dry for blood…_ ” She says, clearly sarcastically, “ _I especially like the tiny, headstrong, provincial girls._ ”

“Hey!” You exclaim offended, “I’m not tiny….”

She smirks almost fondly at you (maybe it’s just your mind playing tricks on you) before she simply says, “ _Goodnight, cutie._ ”

You don’t know why, but part of you panics at the thought of her hanging up. You don’t want this to end just yet and part of you needs to know that it’ll happen again, “Will you call me again tomorrow?”

Her face falls at your question and you’re not really prepared when she says, “ _I don’t know, cupcake…_ ” She notices the crestfallen expression you couldn’t hide even if you tried, “ _I mean, I want to, but Mother arrives tomorrow and I’m not sure if —_ ”

“Holy fudge!” You exclaim loudly, clearly scaring the life out of her. You can’t believe you forgot about that, “I’m so sorry, I totally forgot, Carm.” 

She shrugs it off, predictably, “ _It’s not a big deal._ ”

“But it is! It’s your _mother_ , the one you haven’t seen for a year, the one who treated you like her freaking property your entire childhood, the one who…”

You stop yourself when you notice her amused expression over your sudden angry rant. You just can’t help it. People like her Mother are just really _bad_ people. 

“Sorry… She just makes me so _angry_.” 

“ _Makes two of us._ ” She says bitterly, a haunted look appearing in her dark eyes. 

“Pretty sure if there’s a demonic, evil vampire in the family, it’s your Mother…”

She lets out an almost shocked laugh at your comparison, her eyes lighting up again much to your pleasure, before she says, “ _I’ll be sure to tell her that._ ” You know she’s kidding, but you still can’t stop the horrified look that appears on your face. With everything Carmilla has told you about her Mother, she’s the last person you’d ever want to get on the bad side of, “ _I’m kidding._ ” She reassures you, “ _I wouldn’t let her within 10 miles of you if I could help it…_ ” Her jaw seems to clench at the mere thought of you and her Mother in the same room, and although you really appreciate this protective side of her, part of you feels a bit disappointed as well, but you’re not sure why that is, “ _I’ll FaceTime you again tomorrow if I can. Sleep tight, cupcake._ ”

“Good night, Carm.” You say, finally too tired to fight her on it, “And thanks for doing this tonight it… It means a lot to me.”

“ _I know._ ” She smiles softly, and just as you’re about to end the call, she stops you with the words, “ _Oh, and Laura?_ ”

“Yeah?” You say sleepily just as the mouse hovers over the end-call button.

“ _You’re beautiful._ ” She says, and with a small, fond smile, she hangs up just as the surprised look on your face transforms into a bright, shy smile.

* * *

You try to ignore the way you can’t help but smile despite it being a Monday morning. You try not to notice the slight skip in your step as you walk across campus, and you try to excuse the warm, fuzzy feeling in the pit of your stomach as being the result of the sunny weather. You try, but it’s no use. You know perfectly well why you’re having a good day well before it has started. 

Despite being miles away from her, you’ve never felt closer to her. You’ve never felt closer to anyone in years. You’re very much aware of this feeling of closeness, of how you’ve already attached yourself to her more than you think is good for you. But you can’t help it. 

You’re scared. You’re scared of feeling this way about someone you’ve never met; for someone you’ve only known for nearly three months; someone you’re still not entirely sure if you _do_ know. 

You want to be patient with her; you wish you were able to take baby steps for her until she’s ready to let you all the way in, but you don’t think you can. Despite how hard you know it was for her to reveal the things she did last night, it’s not enough. She’s still a mystery to you, and if you’re being honest, the fact that she apparently fled her own home-town to escape whatever she did, kind of unsettles you. You need to know. You need to know who she really is, who she was, before this feeling evolves into something you won’t be able to stop. 

As it is, though, confronting her about her past has historically been about as effective as using bug spray on Voldemort. And despite your previous failed attempt at Googling her, you just know you can do better than that. You’re journalism major, after all! So… do you actively start investigating her, completely disregarding anything like interpersonal boundaries and essentially stalking her? 

Of course you do. So where do you begin?


	10. Memories of the Past

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Carmilla is forced to deal with a complicated past when her mother arrives in Paris with a demand that may have consequences for Carmilla's life in Paris. Meanwhile, Laura and Carmilla grow closer, complicating things further, as one of them is still withholding an important truth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What has it been? A week? Two weeks? Three weeks? ... A MONTH?! Jfc, time goes by fast. Between my studies, work and the untimely and incredibly predictable yet heartbreaking death of my favourite character on the show who must not be named, I've simply not had the time or motivation to write. BUT here's like 6k words to make up for it. It's a bit of a heavy chapter, I know, but I'm hoping to shed some light on Carmilla's past, so hopefully that'll make up for it. 
> 
> I feel like I should probably give some trigger warnings, just to be safe, but I'm not really sure what kind really applies other than emotional abuse, I think. So, yeah, just a heads up. 
> 
> Enjoy x

You’re pretty sure video calling Laura last night was without a doubt the best decision you’ve ever made… but also the dumbest.

You can’t get her out of your head. Not that you had much luck doing that before, but now that you’ve _seen_ her, seen how incredibly real, how incredibly _beautiful_ and adorable she is, you doubt you’ll ever be able to again. It’s less than ideal to say the least.

Carmilla [10:45am]: | I had the most interesting dream last night…  
---|---  
Cupcake [10:47am]: | Yeah? What about? :D  
  
You love that she always seems to be awake when you wake up in the morning. It’s like she’s right there with you the minute you text her… but you know she’s not. Not really.

Carmilla [10:56am]: | I’m not sure I should say…  
---|---  
Cupcake [10:57am]: | Why not?? :p  
  
You’re not sure if you should tell her the truth about what you actually dreamt last night. Since you woke up sweating and panting last night, you’ve tried to rid the very vivid, very _explicit_ images from your mind, but you’ve no such luck yet…

Carmilla [11:00am]: | It wasn’t exactly PG13.  
---|---  
  
You’re testing the waters. Yes, you’ve been flirting a lot the past month or so, but for some reason you’re not yet certain how far you can take it, how far she _wants_ you to take it. You tell yourself that it’s just a way to pass time. You tell yourself that the fact that the constant banter between the two of you makes your entire day is just because you live a very dull life. You tell yourself to believe it… you don’t.

Cupcake [11:04am]: | Funny… I think I had the same dream ;)  
---|---  
  
It makes you smile like an idiot before you bite down on your lip at the mental picture of Laura waking up the exact same way as you did last night because of the exact same reason… what is going on? This is ridiculous, and yet…

Carmilla [11:06am]: | That’s quite a coincidence…  
---|---  
Cupcake [11:07am]: | Thought you didn’t believe in coincidences.  
Carmilla [11:07am]: | I don’t.  
Carmilla [11:08am]: | ;-)  
  
You have yet to hear from Mother, yet to hear what time she’ll arrive today, so you can’t tell Laura when she asks you about it. Mattie doesn’t know either, apparently, but it doesn’t surprise you. Mother always likes to make an entrance.

You try not to think about it while you sit through your lecture, or when you drop by the café later to avoid going home in case she already arrived. For all you know, she has a key to the apartment, but you sincerely hope that she doesn’t. You think about hiding out at the café for as long as humanly possible, and then call up one of your ‘study buddies’ later to crash anywhere that isn’t your apartment. As soon as the thought pops into your head, an actual chill runs through your body. For some reason, that’s the last thing you want right now, and you’re usually not one to pass up sex.

Either way, any plans you may have had are ruined when you’re interrupted mid-text to Laura by your phone informing you that you’re running on your last 10 % of battery… and you didn’t bring a charger with you.

Carmilla [04:17pm]: | I’m at 10 %  
---|---  
Cupcake [04:18pm]: | !!!!?  
Cupcake [04:18pm]: | And you’re the one who always gets grumpy when I forget to charge…  
  
You exhale deeply, but only because you know you won’t be able to go the entire evening without talking to her (she’s addictive to you like that), so you know you have to make your way back to the apartment.

Carmilla [04:23pm]: | Fine. But if you don’t hear from me again, I died by the hand of the one who gave birth to me.  
---|---  
Cupcake [04:24pm]: | Carm! Don’t even say that. Now all I can picture is an uptight vampire draining your blood.  
Carmilla [04:25pm]: | Ha, that’s the most accurate way anyone has ever described her.  
Carmilla [04:25pm]: | I’ll text you in 20 when I’m home x  
  
It’s only after you’ve sent the text, and just before your battery dies, that you notice the little ‘x’ at the end of the message. You try not to think about the fact that you don’t ever do that, with anyone, not even your sister.

What _is_ going on?

* * *

When you arrive home you’re relieved to find that Mother is still nowhere near in sight. A fleeting thought crosses your mind that maybe her flight was cancelled or something worse. The worst part is that it doesn’t even make you feel guilty thinking that, but it probably should. You know it should.

You connect your phone to the charger before you start tidying your room more than you already have. You try to convince yourself that you’re not doing it for her, but part of you know that you’re doing it out of habit, perhaps even out of fear.

When you unlock your phone after it restarts, you’re about to text Laura when she beats you to it.

_Cupcake  
_ _Slide to answer_

You smile down at your phone when the familiar caller ID flashes across the screen. It’s now exactly 10 minutes since you told her you’d text her.

“I have yet to be drained of blood, cupcake, but I appreciate the concern,” you say amused when you answer the call before you sit down on the floor next to where your phone is still connected to the charger.

“ _You said 20 minutes. It’s been 20 minutes — and then some._ ”

You can’t help the fond smile that takes over your face before you have a chance to stop it. There’s something about the thought of her worrying about you that makes you feel safe and cared for… two things you don’t remember ever really feeling. Or maybe the pain of the past years made you forget if you did.

“Did you miss me?” You smirk into the phone teasingly, but you still notice how your heartbeat seems to speed up at the thought that she actually did. 

She’s quiet for a few seconds before a small, flustered _maybe_ is whispered into the phone. It makes you laugh because is it even legal to be that adorable?

“You know what I miss?” You ask cheekily after hearing her huff out a dismayed sound at your laughter.

“ _What?_ ”

“Your smile.”

She’s quiet at first, but you swear you can still hear her shy smile through the phone, the very same that you’re craving to see right now.

“ _Well, you know, there_ is _something that can be done about that…_ ”

You can barely contain your smile and you’re honestly kind of glad she can’t see the absolute mush she’s turning you into. You have a reputation to uphold after all.

“Oh, really? And what’s that?”

“ _Video call me,_ ” she blurts out as a command, which kind of surprises you, coming from her, but you have to admit that you find it incredibly hot for some reason, “ _I mean, if you want…_ ”

It feels like the smile on your face is attached to your face with super-glue because you certainly can’t seem to shake it. You know Mother could be here any minute now, but that’s part of why you crave to see her so much, you think. You need the sense of calm she brings you.

“Give me two minutes,” you say after a beat or two and hear a small, shy laugh on the other end before you disconnect the call.

You get up from the floor and step over to your desk before you power up your laptop while impatiently drumming your fingers on the mouse. Once it’s powered up, you don’t waste any time before sitting down and calling her up. She answers on the first ring.

“ _Hi!_ ” Laura beams at you as soon as the face you’ve been craving to see all day, the face you’ve _literally_ been dreaming about (even before you saw her), shows up on the screen. The images your mind had tried to imprint of her last night doesn’t even begin to do her justice.

“Hey there, cutie,” you greet back with a wink, making her look all flustered already and your Monday just got a whole lot better.

Neither of you speak for a while, but you simply take the time to study each other again. She’s not in her pyjamas this time, but instead she's wearing a blue button-up shirt, a bit of make-up and non-bed hair. Obviously the sight in front of you is incredible, but you won’t deny that part of you kind of adored the disheveled look of her last night…

“ _Still a bit weird, huh?_ ” Laura comments and narrows her eyes in amusement as your eyes meet through the screen a few moments later and a smile appears on your faces before you both let out a small laugh.

“Yeah, just a little,” you agree with a slight tilt of your head, “It’s not a bad weird, though.”

“ _Definitely not._ ” Laura agrees firmly with a shake of her head while you continue to stare at her, looking her over once again with your bottom-lip tucked between your teeth. The images from last night’s dream is coming back to you now and you can’t really stop the direction your mind is taking, “ _What?_ ”

You catch her gaze slowly and let go of your lip before a smirk appears there instead, “You were wearing considerably less clothing last night,” you simply state, not breaking eye contact, as you watch her swallow hard, “Just an observation.”

“ _Well, I was in my pyjamas last night, so…_ ”

“I kind of like those pyjamas…”

“ _I bet you do…_ ” Laura replies in a low, clearly distracted voice. Her eyes are no longer meeting your gaze, but instead they seem to have shifted to your lips. She seems to realise this quite suddenly and clears her throat, breaking you out of the same daze you find yourself in, before she says with a slightly high-pitched voice, “ _So… How was your day?_ ”

You can’t help but laugh, breaking whatever moment was happening between you. You don’t mind though - it’s for the best. In fact, you should probably try to keep those kind of moments to a minimum… “I’ve literally talked to you all day, cupcake. You know how my day has been.”

“ _Right…_ ”

“It’s a lot better now though…” You say quietly, even surprising yourself at the genuine tone of honesty in that statement.

She meets your gaze once again with a shy smile on her lips, “ _Yeah?_ ”

“Yeah,” you repeat and at once realise that keeping those moments to a minimum is probably going to be harder work than you thought. You couldn’t even control it for a mere two minutes and the thought makes you avert your gaze this time and clear your throat much the same way as she did only moments ago, “It probably won’t last, though… once Mother arrive, I mean.”

Laura nods understandingly with sympathetic eyes, “ _Do you want to talk about it?_ ”

You appreciate her asking instead of simply assuming you do just because you mentioned it, but the only thing you want right now is to forget Mother even exists and instead pretend that Laura is there in Paris with you, “Not now.”

Laura nods again and doesn’t push you on it. Instead her face suddenly lights up as if someone switched on a lightbulb in her head, “ _Can I get a tour?_ ”

“Of the apartment?”

“ _Duh…_ ” Laura responds with the slightest eyeroll and a small smile playing on her lips.

“Sure,” you shrug, trying to sound nonchalant about it although you’re feeling slightly nervous for some reason about showing her where you live. Laura seems more excited about this than a child on Christmas morning, which you can’t help but find adorable, of course.

You unplug your laptop and decide to show her the rest of the apartment before showing her your room. You’re kind of glad you tidied up today after all. You show her the penthouse room by room and the fact that she seems to be most excited about the roof terrace and the ridiculously sized bathtub makes your heart feel light, but somehow twice the size.

“And, yeah… this is my room. Our last stop on the tour,” you say a lot more disaffected than you actually are. She saw parts of it last night, of course, but now you feel like she’s studying it. Your room is like your sacred place. It’s where you escape to, it’s where you spend your sleepless nights reading. It’s very much _you_. You want her to like it.

“ _It’s very_ you,” she voices your own thoughts while you walk around the room (you’re glad you’re not the kind of sentimental person to keep pictures or past school stuff around that might expose your past to her), “ _I like it._ ”

You let a bright, shy smile take over your face since the laptop is turned away from your face. You take a deep breath and collect yourself before your signature smirk takes over instead. You turn the laptop around to face you again while you move to lay down on the bed, “Well, obviously,” you say, confident as ever.

Laura rolls her eyes at you with an amused smile playing on her lips. You lay down on your stomach on the bed with the laptop in front of you before you continue, “Your turn, cupcake.”

“ _What?_ ”

“I showed you mine…” You smirk at a blushing Laura, your voice suddenly low and suggestive, “Show me yours.”

It takes a few moments for Laura to collect herself and you’re loving every second of it. Watching her get all flustered over something you _said_ is something you won’t ever get tired of, “ _Right, well…_ ” She clears her throat, a faint blush still tinting her perfect skin, before she moves slightly away from the camera and gestures to the room behind her, ” _This is it…_ ”

You chuckle at the incredibly true statement. You have lived in one of those dorm rooms yourself, after all. Of course, Mother made sure you had an entire room for yourself, so you’d have less ‘distractions’. The _privilege_ of being the dean’s daughter, she used to tell you, but you know who she was really just trying to keep you away from.

“It’s nice…” You say with a small nod, trying, and failing, not to smile amused.

“ _It’s a fucking dump._ ” Laura says and immediately her eyes widen at her own use of language, her hands moving to her mouth at the same time and you can’t help but let out a loud laugh at the sight. It’s the most precious and adorable sight you’ve ever seen, and for some reason you find the whole thing kind of sexy, “ _Oh my God, I’m so sorry!_ ” She mumbles behind her hands that are still clasped over her mouth.

“Cupcake…” You chuckle, still finding the whole thing ridiculously amusing as she still haven’t removed her hands from her mouth, “I think I can handle you saying a bad word or two,” you reassure her and watch her slowly remove her hands from her mouth, “In fact… Use whatever dirty words you want…”

You watch as Laura gets impossibly more flustered than she was before, and you’re about to take your teasing a step further when the one voice you _didn’t_ want to hear interrupts you.

“If it isn’t my little Kaiserin…”

Your head jerk up from the screen and you panic when your eyes fall upon the woman who you believe to be the source of everything that went wrong in your life. If you had never seen her again the day you left Styria, you wouldn’t have bat an eyelid.

“Mother,” you blurt out shocked and at once you slam the laptop shut without looking back at the screen, not wanting Laura to be in any proximity of this woman despite the fact that she’s closer to her than you are on a regular basis, “What are you —”

You don’t get to finish your mumbling attempt at a question before she cuts in, “Since no one could be bothered with answering the door when expecting guests, I took the liberty of locking myself in,” she says in the most uptight manner that you have not missed _at all_ , “Honestly, Carmilla, I thought I raised you better than that.”

Your heart has picked up its speed and is beating so fast and so hard against your ribs that you’re surprised you haven’t passed out and your entire body seems to have tensed up, like it’s preparing for something.

“Funny,” you hear yourself say with a confidence you don’t know where comes from, “I thought vampires had to be invited in.”

Your mind is somehow with Laura right now, and you find comfort and strength in your shared memories and in her echoing words of reassurance that _you_ were never the problem. Mother was.

“Your sarcasm was never amusing, Carmilla, nor does it continue to be,” Mother says disaffected as ever as she walks further into your room, tainting your safe haven.

“I do live to disappoint you…” You say a little cautious as you sit up and watch her with wary eyes while she walks around your room with a disapproving gaze studying your things, “What do you want, Mother?”

“You know very well what I want.”

You don’t know why you asked, really, but since she already know your answer, you honestly don’t know what she’s doing here.

“And you very well know my answer,” you say, perhaps predictably, as she looks over at you with an unamused gaze, “I’m not coming home.”

You try to put as much conviction and strength behind those words as you possibly can, but you falter, just slightly, at the firm gaze upon you.

“We’ll see about that.”

The way she says it is enough to make a cold chill run down your spine, but you hide it well and refuse to look weak in front of her. Not anymore. You’ve lived independently away from her for over a year. She can’t touch you anymore.

“No bags?” You ask in an attempt to get her to break the stare. Luckily, it works, or maybe she just decides to take pity on you… for now.

“Did you think I was going to stay here? Sleep on the couch, perhaps?” Mother asks with a cold chuckle, “I’m only staying for one night and I’m well aware of your attitude towards my presence here, Carmilla, so as a gesture of good faith, I decided to stay at a hotel instead.”

“At the Four Seasons no doubt…” You say under your breath, knowing her decision to stay at the hotel had absolutely nothing to do with you and everything to do with her _standards_. Not that you mind, of course, “Well, as fun as this little reunion has been, Mother, I actually need to go and —“

“Oh, you’re not going anywhere,” she cuts you off with a firm, determined voice, before you have a chance to think of an excuse to be anywhere but here,“Your sister will be home soon, and we’ll all sit down as a family and have dinner. I already took care of ordering something to eat since I hardly expect that you would think to.”

You can’t do anything but stare at her, can’t think of anything to say. Everything about this conversation, everything about that uncompromising voice of hers, reminds you of the years growing up when you’d never even think to defy her when she looked at you like that.

“Now, where are your manners, child? The least you could do is offer your mother a glass of wine.”

* * *

Dinner is as intolerable and torturous as you expected it would be. It’s completely quiet apart from the cutlery clinking against the plates while Mother’s presence has sinked over the dining table like a heavy cloud of tension. You’d rather it had stayed like that, you think, when she finally decides to break it.

“Why don’t I start us off with a good gesture of faith?” She asks, and you almost can’t help the snarky comment that makes its way to the tip of your tongue about her so-called _gestures of good faith_ , “I spoke to William,” she continues, which is the only reason why you manage to bite back whatever you were about to say, “He has agreed, with some persuasion on my part, to come home for Christmas this year.”

This is surprising news to you. Christmas was always the worst time of year for you, mostly because Mother hates Christmas and was always in a worse mood than usual (which was quite an accomplishment), so you never spent Christmas together like a family normally would. You wonder what’s changed, why Mother is suddenly so determined to celebrate Christmas, but mostly you can’t help but wonder if Will would still come if you did (not that you will).

“He’ll come home _even_ with you there, Carmilla,” Mother adds as if she read your mind on the spot. You realise in the way she says it that this is her angle. She’s using Christmas, using _Will_ , as a pawn to get you to come home, “This is your chance to right your wrongs with him.”

“ _My_ wrongs with him?” You can’t help but question with a scoff. Mattie kicks you under the table, trying to get you to abort whatever discussion you’re about to start, but it’s too late, the door is already opened, “The only reason why Will won’t talk to me is because of _you_ , Mother.”

A small, cold smile tugs on the corner of her mouth, and you curse internally at the cold shiver that runs down your spine, “I think you overestimate my influence on him, dear. William is an independent, young man. He made up his own mind about what happened without me having to coerce him into anything.”

Your throat dries up and your heart feels too heavy for your chest when she refers to what happened two years ago. Your mind is struggling to keep out the memories that pushes to come forth, but somehow you manage to focus on how much lighter you felt earlier talking to Laura. You cling to that feeling, hoping it will push back the memories.

“What _happened_ , Mother, was _your_ fault,” you say through gritted teeth with so much repressed anger that it even surprises yourself, “By default, you’re still the reason he hates me.”

The room is frozen in time for a brief moment. No one speaks. No one moves. It’s just quiet. You continue to stare at your wine glass, afraid that if you look up, your resolve will falter.

“I think it’s about time that you take responsibility for your own actions, darling,” Mother finally answers, her voice clearly restrained in an effort to keep her temper in check, “As much as you wish that you can blame it on me, what happened was entirely due to your own foolishness. I merely helped clean it up, and this is the thanks I get.”

“Mother…” Mattie tries to interject, the first thing she’s tried to say since you sat down at the table. She was always more respectful of Mother, perhaps more fearful of her as well.

“Helped?” You screech, finally turning your head to look at her, ” The only reason why she was even there was because of you, because of what you _made_ me do!”

“Oh, quit being so dramatic, dear,” Mother says as she averts her eyes from you and takes a large drink of her wine, “It was for your own good.”

“Don’t pretend you did anything for me out of the goodness of your heart, Mother,” you respond and have to clutch the edge of the table in order not to lose your temper completely, “We both know you just couldn’t deal with the bad publicity.”

“Maybe so,” Mother admits without batting an eyelid, “But you’ll understand someday, darling. You’ll see.”

You’ve put up with a lot from Mother over the years. You’ve let her speak to you in whichever way she saw fit, let her strip you of all control and had her treat you like a doll for her own benefits only. She's done a lot of things in the past, but expecting you to understand _this_ must be the cruelest thing she's ever done.

“Do you think I’ll _ever_ understand why you made me hurt the only girl I’ve ever loved?” You ask the most vulnerable you’ve ever let yourself be in front of Mother, but you can’t keep the memories at bay anymore.

“I think you’re a practical girl and you’ll see that everything I do, I do for the best of this family,” Mother answers, her voice cool and disaffected to the vulnerable mess of her youngest daughter in front of her, “It was a tragic accident what happened to her, yes, but she was never good enough for you. She was a wretched little thing, and you, my glittering girl, are a diamond.”

This had always been Mother’s idea of you. No matter what you did, no matter how many times you disappointed and embarrassed her, _you_ were always the diamond raised above all else. You wish she knew how wrong she was. You wish she knew that the entire world thought she had that one statement backwards.

“All I’m hearing are excuses to why you ruin every life around you, Mother,“ you say evenly, the fight having left your body and you just want to get away from her, “And I think I’ve heard enough.”

You get up from the table, ready to sprint out of the door and run until your lungs cave in on themselves. She would never let you have the last word, of course.

“Sit down,” she demands firmly, her voice still cool and collected, that is, until you make no move to obey her, “I said, _sit down_ ,” she repeats, raising her voice to a firm, commanding one, “I did not go out of my way to come here to have you behaving like this.”

“I never asked you to come here, Mother!” You raise your voice to match hers, surprising her, and you can’t help but feel a little proud of how far you’ve come since you left Styria, how much independence and strength you’ve gained, especially in the last few months.

“You will do as I say. You _will_ come home, as will William and Matska, and we _will_ be a family again,” Mattie looks up at this, finally, and the look on her face tells you that she had no idea she was part of Mother’s plans as well. Your eyes almost beg her to do something, _say_ something, to indicate that she won’t just let Mother dictate your lives like this. But she does nothing. She won’t even meet your gaze, “Because the other option is that I simply make one phonecall to the dean at your university, and you won’t even have that,” she threatens, and you know she could do it, _would_ do it, well knowing that she would take away the one thing that gives you some kind of meaning in life, “So, what’s it to be?”

You think briefly about your options. For a second, you let yourself wonder how bad it would really be to just go home; to return to the people you once considered your friends, to go home to the place where you grew up, where you fell in love for the first time. To go where Laura is. For a second, you let yourself believe you could do it, that you could really go home, but then the memories start to make their way past the barriers you’ve created, the tainted ones. You see the people who used to be your friends look at you with hurt, anger, disdain… all feelings you were responsible for. You see _her_ broken in front of you, her innocence stripped away by your hand. It’s no longer home.

“Do whatever you want, Mother,” you say unwavering and put all your remaining strength behind your next words as you meet her eyes and say, “I will _never_ go back there again. _Ever._ ”

You don’t wait for a response as you turn around and storm away to your room. After you slam the door shut, you immediately lock it before you turn around and slide down to the floor with your back against the door and your heart beating too fast against your chest.

* * *

You don’t know how long you sit on the floor of your room. At one point you reach for your phone, for Laura, really, and see that you have one missed call from her and a reassuring text that she’ll be there whenever if you need her. As much as you want to call her up right then, you can’t. You can barely focus on anything in the room that suddenly feels too confining to you, too small, too _restricting_.

Eventually, you move to the windowsill. You open the window and end up with your legs hanging out over the edge, the entire front of your body facing the openness of the city. You welcome the cold, night air into your lungs as if your body no longer have the ability to produce oxygen by itself.

The lights of the city are illuminating the street below you and you watch the tiny people go about with their lives and you find yourself irrationally jealous of each and every one of them. It’s ridiculous, really, because you know half of them probably have it worse than you do, but you still can’t help but wish that you could trade lives with them.

A few soft knocks on the door pulls you out of your thoughts for a moment, “ _Carmilla?_ ” Your sister calls, almost apologetic, “ _I’m going out for a drink with Mother. I’ll be back soon._ ”

She doesn’t say anything else, but you know that what she’s really saying is _don’t do anything stupid, I’ll be back soon and we’ll talk._ You appreciate the thought, but you’re still angry with her for not backing you, for not standing up for both of you when she should have. You also can’t promise what you might do, you just know you can’t be in your mind right now.

A few moments later, you hear the front door shut and it’s only then that you feel the tension finally leaving your body. She’s gone… and once again you’re alone to deal with the memories of your past.

* * *

You barely remember when you decided to leave the windowsill in favour of sitting on the kitchen island with the bottle of whiskey you’re halfway through, but you just know it seemed like a good idea at the time. It wasn’t.

The door unlocks and your sister returns from wherever she and Mother went. She freezes when she sees you at the kitchen island, bottle in hand, and not even bothering to greet her.

“I thought you didn’t drink like that anymore,” she says, a slightly worried look on her face, before she walks towards you while taking off her jacket in the process.

You don’t remember the last time you did this; drink alone for the sole purpose of getting drunk, to escape your own mind. It’s ironic really that it always seems to have the opposite effect when you start to lose control, but you never think that far ahead until it’s too late to turn back.

“Special occasion,” you slur as you raise the bottle and look at her with a careless (and probably drunk) look.

“If this is about Mother…”

“Not _everything_ is about that woman, though she _really_ does like to think so, doesn’t she?”

You really don’t want to have this conversation right now - or any conversation, actually. You think you’re rather drunk and you just want to go to sleep. You (try) to get up from the chair, but you don’t realise how drunk you actually are until you’re practically falling over. Your sister manages to catch you before you hit the ground — _your hero_.

“Come on, little monster, let’s get you to bed,” she says softly before she more or less carries you to bed.

She somehow manages to get you out of your clothes too and into bed. You close your eyes the moment your head hits the softness of the pillow, but the moment you do, you’re immediately hit with images you’re usually very skilled at holding at bay.

You don’t realise you’re crying until your sister pulls you into her lap. She’s stroking your head and rocks you softly back and forth, trying to comfort you, as she keeps repeating the words you never truly believe, “It wasn’t your fault, Kitty. It wasn’t your fault.”

* * *

Your room is drenched in darkness when you wake up. Your eyelids feel sticky from the smeared make-up, your eyes itchy from crying. You’re still drunk.

The images are still flashing behind your eyes, and you can’t stop them, can’t stop the tears that starts falling down your cheeks again… but you think you have an idea who can. You reach blindly around your bed until you find your phone under your pillow and before you know it, you’re already calling her up.

“ _Carm?_ ” She asks on the third ring, her voice sleepy but full of worry, which only makes the tears come faster even though you try so hard to keep them in, to keep quiet, “ _What’s wrong? What happened?_ ”

You haven’t even said anything, but she already knows it’s bad. Probably because 1) it's in the middle of the night and 2) you're clearly upset. You try not to think about the fact that you seem to be making a habit out of this, waking her because of your own messed up life. You can’t find your voice, but you think your shaky breath and the suppressed sobs is enough to get the message across.

“ _It’s okay, you’re gonna be okay…_ ” She tries to reassure you despite not knowing what’s going on. She can probably make a pretty qualified guess though, but the fact that she’s comforting you, the fact that she cares so much, is too much for you.

“I need to tell you something,” you say through another sob. You can’t keep lying to her. You have to tell her everything. You have to tell her everything about your past in Styria, about your time at Silas… about _Ell_. She deserves to know what kind of person you really are; she deserves to know that you’re not the person she thinks you are.

“ _Carm,_ ” she says softly, her voice caressing your name like a comforting stroke, “ _You’re drunk, and you’re upset… you need to sleep it off, okay?_ ” You don’t even know how she knows that you’re drunk, but you must’ve been slurring your words more than you thought you did, “ _I’ll stay on the phone with you until you fall asleep._ ”

You want to argue with her. You want to blurt out everything and not give her a chance to stop you, but the way her voice speaks to you in a soft and caring, yet commanding way, makes you hold it in. Perhaps, you think, it can wait until the morning. What difference does a few hours make?

Right?


	11. Who Are You, Really?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Laura goes on her coffee date with Danny, but it may not meet her expectations after all. Meanwhile, Carmilla finally finds the courage to reveal pertinent information about herself that she has been withholding.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was so sure that I had this chapter in the bag a week after I last updated, but then I just didn't, you know? Ran into some narrative problems. Hit a writer's block. Got distracted by American and Aussies. It's all an exciting tale, which I'm sure none of you want to hear, so instead I apologise for the late update with 7.5k of newly proofread words. That's right people. I've acquired myself probably the most incredible and patient beta in the world. I even got her awesome girlfriend as a bonus too - how great is that? Anyway, all mistakes are hers (not). Jokes aside, she's incredibly talented and basically you guys owe her this chapter so a huuuuge shout out and THANK YOU to [vampire_chunks](http://archiveofourown.org/users/vampire_chunks/pseuds/vampire_chunks). 
> 
> Also, 1k + kudos? You guys are incredible! I'd hug each and every one of you if I could. 
> 
> Enjoy!

**05:46:09**

You squint at your phone when your alarm wakes you up that morning, and to your surprise, your call with Carmilla is still on-going. You must’ve fallen asleep, and since your phone was connected to the charger the battery never died.

You’re about to end the call, but your finger ends up hovering above the end-call button instead. There’s something weirdly satisfying about waking up with Carmilla still on the line, like you’re waking up next to her, and if you listen closely, you can hear the faint sounds of rustling sheets and soft breathing on the other end.

You decide not to hang up just yet; instead, you put the phone on speaker and start getting ready for the day. You argue with yourself that it’s not as creepy as it seems, and that you simply want to make sure she’s alright after her call to you last night. You’re worried about her, and you want to be there for her in any way you can.

You’re in the middle of brushing your teeth, the phone carefully placed on the sink, when you hear the rustling intensify before a _very_ raspy and slightly confused voice says, “ _Laura?_ ”

You spit out the toothpaste before answering, “Hey…” You say it a bit warily, not knowing what state she’s in this morning. “Did I wake you?”

“ _Uh, no. I don’t think so…_ ” she answers in a voice that makes you imagine the confused frown that must be present on her face right now. You don’t say anything, but instead you let her collect her thoughts through the hangover she must be experiencing. “ _You stayed on the line all night?_ ” she finally asks, her voice full of wonder and sadness at the same time. It kind of breaks your heart.

“I told you I’d stay on the line until you fell asleep,” you say before you start moving back to the other room. “I guess I fell asleep and this morning I just…” You stop in your tracks and bite your lip before finding the right words to explain. “I just wanted to make sure you’re okay.”

It takes her a few moments to answer, but when she does, it’s with so much fondness in her voice that you’re certain it makes your heart skip a beat. “ _I am now…_ ”

The smile that takes over your face must resemble the fondness in her voice as your heart swells to twice its size in your chest. It’s a familiar feeling by now, you notice, and you know she’s the sole reason for it. As much as you want to revel in this feeling, there’s other matters at hand that you need to deal with, “Do you want to talk about what happened?”

You know she probably won’t, but you also know that she probably needs to. You also can’t deny that you’re awfully curious as to what she wanted to tell you, but whatever it was, you didn’t want her to regret anything when she sobered up, which is why you stopped her last night.

“ _Don’t you have class or something, cupcake?_ ” she asks instead, predictably changing the subject like always.

“I don’t, actually… I’m supposed to meet Danny in the library, but it’s not for another half an hour.”

You neglect to tell her that after your study session at the library, you’re supposed to go on the coffee date you agreed to last week. A few weeks ago you would’ve been ecstatic about it, but now… now all you can think about is how much better that coffee would taste in Paris.

“ _Danny, huh?_ ” Carmilla says, her voice noticeably colder than it was a moment ago. “ _Well, you don’t want to be late for that, sweetheart._ ”

“Carm…” you say, but you don’t know how to continue. You _know_ she’s jealous; you can hear it in her voice.

“ _What?_ ”

You don’t know how to deal with this. You know that if the roles were reversed, you’d most likely be feeling the exact same way, but you also know she probably won’t admit it. You also need to think realistically about this: she’s in _Paris_. That’s hardly a small train ride away… and yet, you still find yourself needing to explain.

“Danny and I… We…”

You want to say that you’re _just_ friends, which is not exactly a lie, but it doesn’t feel like the truth either, so you can’t make yourself say it, and because of that, you say more than you mean to.

“ _I honestly couldn’t care less about you and Danny, buttercup,_ ” Carmilla says in probably the most disaffected voice you’ve ever heard, and although you have a pretty strong feeling she doesn’t mean it, her voice does make it hard not to believe it. “ _I’m sure you and Xena just make the_ cutest _couple. Later, cupcake…_ ”

You don’t even get a chance to say another word before she hangs up on you, and despite the sting of her being completely unreasonable with you, your mind is stuck on the nickname she chose for Danny: _Xena_. You’ve never told her what Danny looks like, so why would she make that comparison?

* * *

You’re officially the worst date ever.

Not only did you fail completely at concentrating even the _slightest_ bit during your study session, it’s now the third time you’ve made her repeat what she said to you… and you’ve only just sat down with your beverages.

“You’re not really into this, are you?” Danny asks with a forlorn look on her face as she glances down at her steaming cup of coffee while fidgeting with her fingers on the handle.

“No, no, I am… I just…” You try to explain exactly what you’re feeling, but you don’t know how. How do you even begin to explain the situation you find yourself in? “I just have a lot going on right now.”

You’re distracted in that moment by your phone vibrating on the table in front of you. You know it’s incredibly impolite and frankly just bad manners, but you can’t help but look at your phone regardless.

Carm [12:15pm]: | I’m sorry.  
---|---  
Carm [12:15pm]: | I don’t know why I acted like that.  
  
You can’t help but roll your eyes before you quickly type a reply.

Laura [12:16pm]: | Yes you do.  
---|---  
  
“Is everything alright?” Danny asks, making you look up with a guilty look. You’re on a date for Christ’s sake. You need to put away thoughts of the incredibly hot, incredibly _frustrating_ girl in Paris and focus on the one sitting next to you.

“Yeah, no… it’s nothing,” you shrug as you put your phone back on the table in an attempt to distance yourself from your other reality. “So, how’s the planning of the Adonis Festival coming?”

Danny narrows her eyes at you for a moment as if questioning your actual interest on the matter, then seemingly decides to let it go “Really good… I think it’s gonna be one of the greatest yet.”

You nod along in acknowledgement as she starts to tell you about the things she’s got planned. You _try_ to concentrate on what she’s saying— you _try_ to give her your undivided attention— but your mind constantly betrays you. You hate that you have no control over it, but you also know there’s probably a reason for it when your phone vibrates again and you can’t even stop yourself from looking, even though you try.

Carm [12:22pm]: | … what do you want me to say?  
---|---  
  
You have to restrain yourself from letting out a frustrated sigh. You obviously both know what’s going on here, yet neither of you wants to admit it. It’s just going to complicate things, you know that, but aren’t they already complicated as it is?

Laura [12:23pm]: | The truth for once would be nice.  
---|---  
  
You’re so caught up in your phone and the three tiny dots that appear on your screen that you don’t notice that Danny has stopped talking.

Carm [12:24pm]: | The truth isn’t always the best option, cupcake.  
---|---  
Laura [12:24pm]: | For you or for me?  
  
You know the last message is probably a low blow since you don’t exactly belt out your feelings to her either, and yet you feel as though she’s the one with the secrets. You feel like she’s hiding something from you, while you, on the contrary, are an open book.

“Listen, Laura…” Danny suddenly says, making you look up at her just as a new wave of guilt rushes over you. You honestly hate yourself right now. “Can you at least just answer me one thing? Honestly?”

You swallow nervously while nodding slowly. “Of course.”

“Are you seeing someone else?“

The question should probably catch you off guard, but it doesn’t. The truth is, you really don’t know how to answer that. Are you seeing someone else in the most literal sense of the word? Definitely not. Do you wish that you were seeing someone else? Definitely yes. Is it going to change anything between you and Carmilla? Probably not, but sitting here on a date with an amazingly sweet and gorgeous girl when you feel like this is not fair. It’s not fair to anyone.

“It’s… it’s complicated,” you end up answering honestly. You don’t want to lie to her anymore. There’s too many half-truths going around and she doesn’t deserve it.

“So there _is_ someone else?” Danny asks, and the hurt on her face is almost enough for you to tell her no, but it wouldn’t help anyone if you did. Not in the long run.

“Yes… and no,” you tell her honestly again, but at the confused look on her face, you know you have to elaborate. “There _is_ someone else, but… I’m not _seeing_ her. She… she doesn’t live here.”

“Oh…” Danny exclaims and bows her head while avoiding your gaze when realisation washes over her. “So it’s a long-distance thing?”

You’re not sure what you’d call it, so again you opt for the truth, “The truth is, I don’t know if it’s even a thing…”

“But you want it to be.”

The statement is not one of anger or resentment, which somehow makes it that much worse. It’s just a statement, a defeated one at that.

You look down at the table and start tracing small patterns in the spilled sugar there. “I think so…” you admit, not only to her, but to yourself as well. As much as it complicates things, as much as the hurt on Danny’s face kills you, it’s the truth. And you can hardly deny it anymore.

“Thanks for being honest,” Danny finally says with a deep sigh. Part of you wishes she would yell at you. You feel like you deserve it. “I hope it works out with her.”

She moves to stand up then, and you know it’s incredibly selfish of you, but you can’t help but reach out a hand to stop her. “Danny, I…”

“I know,” she says with a small smile. “We can still be friends. I just… I just need some time, alright?”

You nod slowly in response, your entire face no doubt full of the countless apologies you want to say. You let go of her hand and with a last sad smile in your direction, she walks out of the shop.

Despite how sorry you are for hurting her, and despite how guilty you’re feeling right now, you somehow find yourself feeling relieved as well. Owning up to the reality of your feelings for both Danny and Carmilla was something you didn’t even know you needed to do… or maybe you did.

Carm [12:40pm]: | Are you still with her?  
---|---  
  
You sigh deeply, both with continuing frustration at her clear lack of owning up to the same feelings as you, but also with the relief you’re currently feeling as you type your response.

Laura [12:42pm]: | No  
---|---  
  
You’re barely out of the shop after having abandoned the now cold hot cocoa in the nearest bin when your phone starts vibrating in your pocket again.

 _Carm_  
_Slide to answer_

You only hesitate for a second before you accept the call.

“ _I was jealous._ ”

Her voice is disaffected, almost nonchalant, but small. You know she’s feeling vulnerable, and it’s all you need to know as a small, fond smile spreads across your own face and you reply in two small words.

“I know.”

* * *

It’s a few weeks later when you once again find yourself alone in your room one night. Betty is nowhere to be found (as usual) and most of the light in the room is dimmed apart from the bright light from the laptop hitting your face.

“Why are you wearing so much clothing?” you whine in dismay at the screen in front of you where Carmilla is currently sitting almost fully-clothed— whereas you? Not so much.

“ _I’m winning, cupcake, that’s why._ ”

You’re not sure how she talked you into doing this, but you just can’t quite believe it. During the past month or so, your relationship has somehow progressed from suggestive flirting to something way beyond that, which is why you’re currently sitting in panties and an oversized-shirt watching Carmilla try to make another shot in this stupid virtual pool game she found for you to play.

“This game is stupid!” you exclaim when another ball disappears into the virtual black hole on the screen. Why you ever agreed to ‘strip-pool’ is beyond you, but you’ve found that you have a hard time saying no to her when she’s looking at you with those intense eyes of hers. “I swear you’re cheating somehow.”

Carmilla lets out that rare laugh of hers, and if you weren’t so annoyed that you have to lose yet _another_ piece of clothing, the sound would’ve made you smile as brightly as ever. As it is, however, you’ve already shed both of your socks and your pants. It’s kind of leaving you with few options.

“ _It’s online pool, Laura— how the hell am I supposed to cheat at this?_ ” she replies, amused, to which you can only pout in dismay. “ _Besides,_ ” she continues with hooded eyes in that low, raspy voice of hers, “ _I’m not complaining…_ ”

“I bet you’re not…” you say under your breath as your heart starts to beat harder and faster against your ribs at the thought of revealing more of yourself. It’s not that you have body issues _per se_ , but sitting in front of the girl you’re crushing on, half-naked, without having met her yet is still pretty nerve-wracking.

“ _You know, you’re more than welcome to forfeit if you want…_ ” Carmilla says when she notices your hesitance. You look up with narrowed eyes. You know her too well by now, and you know it’s never that easy with her; she wants something. “ _As long as you admit that I’m the most skilled pool-player out of the two of us._ "

You roll your eyes at her. Of course. You knew it wouldn’t be that easy… But are you _really_ willing to give up so quickly?

“You know, if we were playing a real game of pool, in person, you wouldn’t stand a chance,” you say, looking at her with an almost challenging gaze. You know the statement is heavy with meaning. You want it to be.

“ _But it’s not…_ ” she eventually says without breaking eye contact. It’s like you’re having an entire conversation just with your eyes— and it’s not about pool.

It’s been like this for the past few weeks. You’ve made subtle comments about finally meeting face to face, and she shuts you down every time. The thing is, you have a feeling that she wants to meet in person, which is why you keep pushing. You just don’t know what’s holding her back.

You decide on another tactic then. “That’s too bad…” you drawl in a low, suggestive voice as you reach behind your back and under your shirt. You swiftly unclasp your bra and slide the straps off before completely removing it from underneath your shirt. “Don’t you think so?“

Her dark and entirely surprised expression is worth the slight anxiousness you’re feeling, but you’re kind of proud of your audacity and the fact that you managed to keep up the smirk. That is, until she finally speaks:

“ _God, I need to be kissing you right now._ ”

Your smirk is promptly wiped away from your face. You can’t help but just stare at her deep brown eyes as your mouth falls slightly agape. You know how she feels.

“I wouldn’t stop you.”

For a brief second her expression turns dreamy as if she’s imagining what it would be like to feel your lips against hers... Much the same way you’ve been imagining it for a while now. But then she swiftly pulls herself out of it by quickly averting her gaze. It’s like the thought of it actually hurts her. You can’t help the disappointment you feel and you’re pretty sure she sees it when she looks up again.

“ _Laura, I…_ ”Carmilla starts, but she can’t quite meet your gaze, “ _I think…_ ”

“Do you _not_ want to meet me?” you blurt out before she has a chance to actually say anything. You’re tired of treading lightly around the subject and you’re tired of her mixed signals. She just said that she wants to _kiss_ you. How is she planning on doing that through a screen?

Carmilla seems slightly taken aback at the upfront question. “ _Of course I do…_ ”

“Then what?“ you ask, the frustration clearly seeping through your voice. “Is it because you’re afraid I’ll drag you off and steal your kidneys, because I swear I wouldn’t even know what to do with them.”

Carmilla rolls her eyes, clearly not appreciating your attempt at lightening the mood. “ _Please— you’re so tiny you couldn’t hurt a fly._ ” But somehow her comeback is lacking any sort of fire. You merely stare at her, waiting for her to bring another explanation to the table.,“ _You know… There’s something to be said for the anonymity of the virtual. We recreate ourselves in our own ideal images._ ”

You narrow your eyes, confused at the sudden serious, philosophical words. You’re not sure where she’s going with this. “Meaning what, exactly?”

“ _You might not like the real me, cupcake._ ”

You can tell she’s being completely sincere about her apparent insecurities by the way she still can’t quite meet your gaze and how her voice seems to be getting smaller. “The real you? Carm, what are you talking about?”

A sad smile tugs on her lips. Her face looks haunted… and guilty. “ _I need to tell you something,_ ” she says while finally looking up at you nervously,” _and I’m not sure how you’re going to take it._ ”

“What— do you have an extra arm or a tail somewhere?” You laugh nervously, cursing yourself for your awkward humour when you find yourself in an uncomfortable situation. “Because I’ve gotta say, you hide it well.”

She looks down again and shakes her head slowly. “ _No… it’s nothing like that._ ”

“Then what is it?”

You don’t really know what else to say, so you simply look at her, feeling your heart beating a little faster while you wait for her to finally reveal whatever it is she’s trying to tell you. You watch as she’s practically trying to force the words out of her mouth until, eventually, she seems to get enough of trying.

“ _I… I haven’t been completely honest with you about who I am and where I come from… My past,_ ” she says and she’s looking away from you again, which is increasingly making you more anxious. “ _And there’s a reason for that, there honestly is, but —_ ”

“Carm?” you interrupt her rambling, making her focus on you again, finally. You’d love to sit back and give her the time she needs to get the words out, but not only is the increasing anxiousness getting to be unbearable, so is your curiosity. “Just tell me. Please.”

“ _I used to live in Styria._ ”

“Okay…” you nod, apparently not really listening to what she said but rather waiting for the ball to drop. Until you realise it already did. “Wait, _what?_ ”

“ _I grew up in Styria,_ ” she continues quickly, averting her eyes again and barely letting the information sink in. “ _I lived there until about a year and a half ago when I transferred and moved to Paris to live with my sister._ ”

Time stands still for you. You can barely believe what you’re hearing. It’s like your mind is spinning and you can’t quite hold it in place long enough to form a coherent sentence, “But you… I…”

“ _I’ve been wanting to tell you._ ”

“You’ve been _wanting_ to? Then why didn’t you?” you snap, perhaps a bit harsher than necessary. But to be fair, she did kind of lie to you for over four months and it’s kind of hard for you to wrap your head around the fact that she used to live _here_. In Styria. Of all places.

“ _It’s… It’s complicated._ ”

“So _un_ -complicate it, Carm!” you say, annoyed and frustrated that this is the only explanation she offers you for not telling you sooner. “You can’t just tell me that you’ve been lying to me _for months_ about… about…” Something clicks then. You’re not entirely sure how or why, but you’re certain when you say, “You went to Silas University.”

It’s not a question. It’s a statement. A fact.

“ _Yes,_ ” she says quietly, with a shaky sigh. ” _I did. But I didn’t lie to you, Laura._ ”

You look at her with disbelieving eyes and scoff at her attempt at downplaying the situation. “What?”

“ _I didn’t lie._ ” she repeats, clearly believing this to be true herself, “ _I just chose_ not _to tell you._ ”

“... and that’s somehow better, how?”

She looks away with a small, nonchalant shrug of her shoulders. “ _I think lying is exceedingly worse than withholding information you’re not yet ready to share._ ”

You nod once in acknowledgement as a small wave of understanding washes over you. Your eyes are wide with the shock of this revelation as you really let it sink in. You’re completely speechless. What in the holy name of Hufflepuff are you supposed to do with this information?

“ _Laura?_ ”

“So, just to be sure I’m not having a seizure,” you start, not really looking at anything but thin air while you collect your thoughts around this, “you used to live _here_ , in Styria, and up until a year and a half ago—about the same time as I transferred here— you were enrolled _at_ Silas University.”

“ _Yes…_ ”

“And you never told me this.”

“ _No._ ”

“Why not?”

She let’s out a deep, frustrated sigh and is clearly about to roll her eyes at you when she thinks the better of it and stops herself mid-roll. “ _Like I said, it’s —_ ”

“Don’t tell me it’s complicated, Carm,” you interrupt before she gets a chance to finish. There’s a quota on how many times you’re allowed to say the words _it’s complicated_ and Carmilla reached hers months ago. “I think I deserve a decent explanation.”

The frustration she’s feeling is getting harder for her to hide when she moves a quick hand through her hair and says, “ _You’re right, I just…_ ” She sighs deeply again, shakes her head and finally manages to offer something that you can relate to. “ _That place holds nothing but bad memories for me, Laura. I never imagined that I’d have a reason to go back there, and I’m still not sure if I can._ ”

“What happened here?“ you ask bluntly, not bothering to tread lightly around her past anymore even though part of you knows you should.

She narrows her eyes at you, almost suspiciously, before she asks, “ _You really don’t know, do you?_ ”

You’re confused by her question and you don’t try to hide that as you look strangely at her. She raises her brows in surprise, but eventually her face falls before she says, “ _Ask around, cupcake… You’d be surprised by how much people love to talk about things that are none of their business at Silas._ ”

You’re pretty certain you already know this, but it doesn’t change the fact that you don’t want to hear bits and pieces of distorted truth from everyone else. If your time as a journalism student has taught you anything, it’s that you should always be wary of rumours and get the story straight before making assumptions. You also can’t deny that part of you really wants her to trust you enough to tell you herself, which is exactly why you ask, “Why can’t you tell me yourself?”

“ _Because I can’t._ ”

Her answer doesn’t surprise you, at all, but it doesn’t frustrate you any less. “That’s not a reason.”

“ _Laura…_ ” she says warningly. You know she’s reached her limit of patience today; you know she’s reached her limit of _sharing_. But so have you.

“Why can’t you just tell me —”

“ _Because I can’t just sit here and watch you change your mind about me through a Goddamn screen!_ ”

Despite being completely aware of pushing her, you’re still stunned by her outburst. Not because it’s angry, (because it isn’t at all) but because of the fear that so clearly seeps through the frustration in her voice. “ _I do want to meet you,_ ” she continues in a much lower voice. “ _Trust me, I… I_ really _do. Otherwise I wouldn’t be telling you this. I just…_ ” She sighs deeply, and almost apologetically, she continues, “ _I want you to know_ who _exactly you’re meeting._ ”

You can’t deny that this entire situation is starting to make you a bit anxious. You can’t help but wonder what could have happened that’s making her look this defeated in front of you, that makes her so sure that you will change your mind about her. Yet still, despite all of this, you don’t even hesitate a second before you reply in a steady, strong voice, “I already do.”

She smiles at you, but you can tell it doesn’t change anything.“ _Please… Just ask around, cupcake . If you decide you still want to meet me, if you even still want to talk to me, I’ll be around._ ”

You can tell by the apologetic and almost dejected look in her otherwise determined eyes that she’s about to hang up on you, that she’s saying goodbye.

“Carm… Carm!”

The call ends, and not for the first time, you curse the fact that she’s able to cut the conversation short by a simple click of a button. You know you could call her up again, you know you probably should.

But you don’t.

* * *

Three _insufferable_ days go by.

Three days where you don’t hear that raspy voice of hers or see that beautiful, almost shy smile that seems so out of character on her, but really isn’t. Three days go by where you don’t communicate with her in any way and you feel like you’re going out of your mind.

You know you’re stubborn, but part of you also knows how distorted the truth can get travelling from one idiot to the next. It would feel wrong listening to someone else tell you about Carmilla’s past other than herself. Not when it was clearly enough to get her running away from home. It wouldn’t be right.

On day four, though, the curiosity gets to be too much for you, and you finally give in. You do so, however, on your own terms.

“Miss Hollis, what can I do for you today?”

You look at the Dean’s secretary, Miss Pillsbury, with wide eyes and panic a little when you don’t see Perry around anywhere. You were certain that she would be here. After three days more or less cooped up in your dorm room and after several _additional_ failed attempts at tracking Carmilla down on social media, you find yourself trying more traditional, if not a bit unorthodox, methods.

“I, uh…” You try to stall for time until you can come up with a decent explanation for being in the Dean’s office. “I was just —”

“Laura?”

You turn around at the familiar voice with a sigh of relief. “Perry! I was just coming to see you.”

Perry raises a confused, if not sceptical, brow at your statement while Miss Pillsbury merely shrugs before going back to whatever she was doing before you interrupted. For reasons you have yet to fully understand, Perry works as an office aide on Tuesdays and Thursdays from 2 PM to 5 PM (as if being the floor don wasn’t enough), and for your own personal reasons, you’re kind of glad she didn’t choose a job at the local Starbucks.

“What are you doing here?” she asks as she continues cleaning the cabinets with surprising force and a determined look. “Do you need anything?”

You shift your weight from one leg to the other a bit restlessly as you briefly gaze at Miss Pillsbury, making sure she’s still occupied. “I, uh, wanted to see if you… needed help… with anything?” You decide to go with that in the spur of the moment. “We haven’t spent a lot of time together lately, so I thought we could… hang out?”

Perry stops cleaning momentarily to look at you with a strange frown on her face. “Well, isn’t that… nice,” she says with a curt nod. “I need this place spotless. You can grab that cloth over there and start cleaning the shelves.”

She continues cleaning after gesturing to the shelves next to the cabinets. It wasn’t exactly what you had in mind, but you figure it’s at least an excuse to be hanging around the Dean’s office before you can find what you came here for.

You’ve been cleaning in silence for about five minutes, finding it surprisingly calming, when you start noticing how almost obsessively (and forcefully) Perry is scrubbing every surface she can reach. “So… how’s it going, Perr?”

You want to find out if something is bothering her, but instead of answering, she looks over at the spot you’re currently cleaning before she jostles you away, only to scrub away excessively where you had just been cleaning.

“LaFontaine is taking their midterms today…” Perry suddenly says, rushing the words out. “They should be done by now, but their parents have been difficult lately. They need a good grade.”

You can’t help the small smile that spreads across your face. She’s worried about her best friend, of course. You can’t help but wonder if Perry will ever figure out that there might be more than just friendship between her and her childhood friend, but even if there is, it’s not your place to meddle.

“Hey, where did Miss Pillsbury go?” you ask when you eventually notice that the secretary has left the office.

Perry doesn’t turn around, but merely shrugs and continues cleaning. “Probably the restroom… or the vending machine.”

You nod in acknowledgement, more to yourself at the newly presented opportunity, than her. You start backing away, closer to the adjoining room where the Dean usually sits behind her old, authentic wooden desk. “So, I’m just gonna clean, like, over here, okay?”

Perry doesn’t acknowledge you, but you figure it’s better that she’s completely absorbed in her obsessive cleaning than knowing what you’re up to. When you’re certain she isn’t about to stop cleaning, you turn around and hurry into the empty room and push the door nearly closed.

So far so good, you think, before you look around the room and realise that you have no idea what to do next. If you were a student file of a former student, where would you be?

You hurry over to the cabinets to the side of the room and start reading the labels before you realise they’re organised by year of graduation. You quickly find the year that Carmilla would’ve graduated if she were still enrolled (the same as yours) before you open the cabinet, hopeful that her file will still be there. It isn’t until you’re about to sort through them that you realise the files are organised by last name… Carmilla, obviously, never shared that with you.

“Hey, L, what are you —”

At the sound of LaFontaine’s voice by the door, you jump backwards and accidentally knock into the Dean’s very expensive-looking desk, knocking over a frame that hits the floor with a loud crash as the glass shatters everywhere.

“— doing…?”

You look up at your friend like a deer caught in the headlights with your heart in your throat, not knowing how to explain the situation. LaFontaine is looking at you with a confused but intrigued stare before Perry comes rushing into the room.

“What is going on in here?” she demands as she looks between you and LaFontaine. Her eyes eventually shift to the broken frame on the floor, and they suddenly go wide with panic.

“I… I’ll totally clean it up, don’t worry!” you stammer before bending down to start picking up the broken pieces of glass. You pick up the frame as well and do a double-take when you turn it over.

“What are you even doing in here?” Perry asks as she and LaFontaine move beside you to help. “This is the _Dean’s_ office.”

You ignore her question and simply stare mindlessly at the picture in your hand.

“Yeah, Laura. You’re lucky she’s not around,” LaFontaine continues. “Have you ever met the woman? She scares the hell out of me. Laura?”

LaFontaine moves a hand in front of your face to get your attention. You slowly look up from the picture to your friends that you’ve come to care for deeply since you transferred here. You trust them, and you trust their judgement, which is why you turn the picture in your hand so they both can see it. “Do you… Do you know who’s in this picture?”

LaFontaine frowns at your question as they gaze back and forth between you and the picture. Perry stops picking up the glass for a brief moment to examine the picture for herself, then shrugs and looks away again while continuing to clean up the mess.

“Those are the Dean’s children,” she answers nonchalantly, completely shocking you and making your head spin. “They’re all students here. Or, well, Matska graduated a few years ago. And Carmilla… Well, God knows what happened to her. Will is the only one left still in Styria.”

You turn the picture around again, noticing for the first time that you’ve already met Carmilla’s brother. He’s on Kirsch’s hockey team; he was with you at the diner that night and… Oh.

“Carmilla is Kirsch’s best friend…” you say quietly, more to yourself than anyone else without taking your eyes off of the picture.

“Yeah, she is,” Perry answers as she stands up with the glass in her hand, “Or was, at least.” She shrugs before turning around and leaving the room. LaFontaine still hasn’t said anything, but you can feel their eyes boring into you, like they’re trying to drill into your soul. You choose to ignore it.

“Do you know her full name?” you ask as both of you stand up from the floor as well. “Carmilla, I mean.”

“Carmilla Morgan Karnstein.” LaFontaine says slowly. “Why?”

You choose not to answer right now, but merely move back to the cabinet and start looking through the files before you reach K. And there she is: Karnstein, M. Carmilla.

“Laura?”

You take out the file and hold it like it weighs several hundred pounds, which, in fairness, it kind of looks like it does. It’s huge.

“LaF…” you start as you trail over the file with your hand, then finally look up at your friend. “This is Carmilla’s file.”

”Okay…?” they say as they take a step or two closer.

“No, like… It’s _Carmilla’s_ file,” you try again, clearly not explaining this very well. “ _My_ Carmilla. Or, well, not _my_ Carmilla, but like, you know what I mean. The Carmilla I’ve been talking to, the Carmilla in Paris! She used to be a student here and is apparently the Dean’s daughter!”

You’re practically breathless after rushing out the words that you’re expecting to shock your friend as much as it did you. It doesn’t.

“Well, yeah…?” LaFontaine is looking at you like they have no idea what’s going on, like they’re trying to figure out if you’re pulling a prank on them or something. You’re pretty sure you’re wearing a similar expression.“I mean, we’ve known that since she revealed that she lives in Paris with her sister, Mattie, right? As in Matska?”

All you can do is look at her with wide, disbelieving eyes.

“You knew that Carmilla used to be enrolled here, at Silas, and you didn’t say anything!?” you finally ask, trying to keep your temper in check.

LaF tilts their head slightly to the side. “You really didn’t know?”

“ _No!_ ” you exclaim exasperated, not able to restrain yourself anymore. “How the frilly hell was I supposed to know? I didn’t attend Silas when she was still enrolled here.”

“Well, I thought you were just playing it cool, you know? Like, you wanted to make up your own mind about her or whatever since, you know, she isn’t exactly miss popular around here.”

You pinch the bridge of your nose, trying to wrap your head around this. It’s really been a week of revelations. Revelations that should’ve come much sooner…

“So… while I was freaking out over the fact that I might’ve been catfished due to her extreme lack of sharing personal information, you don’t think my long distance crush being a former a student here _and_ having a student file the size of my Doctor Who box set was, I don’t know, pertinent information?”

“Well, when you put it that way…” LaFontaine simply _shrugs_ , and you honestly have to restrain yourself in order not to strangle them on the spot. “What are you doing with her file, anyway? Isn’t that some kind of invasion of privacy or something? I mean, Carmilla isn’t exactly the kind of person who would take kindly to your… invasive, but very ingenious method of getting to know her. Even if she is all the way in Paris.”

You’re about to flip out on them again for being so completely _blasé_ about all of this when Perry reappears at the door, looking as panicked as ever.

“ _Guys_. Someone’s coming!”

Both of your eyes go wide with panic before you scramble to put the frame (now without glass) back on the table and get out of the room. LaF gestures to the file still in your hand, and you panic even more as you hear footsteps getting closer in the hallway. You make a quick decision to hide it under your shirt. Brilliant on-the-spot thinking…

You expect to see Miss Pillsbury walk through the door, but instead your heart jumps in your throat as a cold shiver runs down your spine when you see her. The Dean. Also known as Carmilla’s Mother. A six foot, power-suited, middle-aged glamazon. She stops in her tracks the moment she sees the three of you.

“Is there a reason why three of my students are taking up space in my office uninvited?”

None of you say anything as the Dean, _Carmilla’s Mother_ , is staring you down with a firm, suspicious look. You barely breathe.

“You will speak when spoken to.”

You try to force words, any words, out of your mouth, but all you can think of now is the fact that she’s _Carmilla’s Mother_ as well as all of the terrible things Carmilla has told you about her childhood. You’re afraid that the words on your tongue might not be the most appropriate things to _yell_ at the Dean of students. In fact, you would probably get expelled, so you’re eternally grateful when Perry speaks up instead.

“We, uh… We were just leaving, Miss Morgan. Your office is clean and sparkling.”

“I’d hope so, Miss Perry, if it takes three of you to do an otherwise pretty simple job.” The Dean stares menacingly at all of you as you move warily past her. “Oh, and Miss Perry?”

Everyone stops in their tracks, but only Perry turns around again. “Yes, ma’am?”

“Don’t let me catch you with your _friends_ on the job again, or you won’t have a job to come back to. Understood?”

“Y-yes, of course, Miss Morgan. I’m sorry.”

You’re practically sprinting down the hall then, trying to put as much space between you and the six feet of pure intimidation as fast as you can.

* * *

“Would someone please explain to me why I just _lied_ to the Dean of students and almost _lost_ my job?” Perry snaps as you find yourselves safely inside your dorm room again.

You pull out the file you’ve had hidden under your shirt this entire time and move to sit down on your bed.

“Well, apparently Laura didn’t know that Carmilla is the same Carmilla as her pen-pal in Paris,” LaFontaine explains _helpfully_. You can’t help but roll your eyes as you continue to look at the file, and the size of it, wondering if you should open it or not.

“Oh, honestly, LaFontaine,” Perry starts almost tiredly as if she’s had to listen to this nonsense for weeks, “she’s _not_ the same Carmilla. She’s probably just another disaffected lesbian with a love for philosophy and pretentious literature who also happens to have adopted an unhealthy punk-rock like attitude towards life…”

Both you and LaFontaine look at her like she just grew a second head. At least you have the excuse of not knowing Carmilla before you met her online for not piecing it together, but Perry is clearly in denial about it for reasons you’re not sure you want to know.

“It’s a _coincidence_ ,” Perry states as if it should’ve been obvious to everyone at this point, “A coincidence. That’s all it is.”

The thing about Perry is that, if there’s something she doesn’t want or can’t deal with, she’ll be in complete denial about it (like certain other things going on in her life), so you don’t know why you even try.

“So, ignoring the striking similarities in both interests and family circumstances, _and_ the fact that _my_ Carmilla recently revealed that she’s _from_ Styria and used to be enrolled here, how do you explain that they _look exactly alike_?!”

Perry looks at you with an almost shocked and offended expression before she says, “Well, I wouldn’t know; I haven’t seen _your_ Carmilla.”

You roll your eyes exaggeratedly and grab your phone before quickly finding a recent picture that Carmilla sent you of her looking dismayed as ever for being outside in the rain. You turn the phone around to Perry with an irritated and impatient look while you wait for it to finally sink through her twenty layers of denial.

“Well, there’s no denying it’s a little odd…”

You let out an exasperated groan as you let yourself fall backwards on the bed with a loud thump. You give up. You have no idea why this is so hard for Perry to accept although you have a feeling it’s got something to do with what seems to be the general dislike for Carmilla around here, but you honestly don’t have the brain-space right now to deal with it.

“Look, can you just—” You finally interrupt the discussion that LaF decided to continue while you massage your temples in an effort to rid yourself of the impending headache you feel coming up. “I… I need a moment alone, okay?”

Perry nods once understandingly before she hurriedly leaves the room with a pointed look at LaFontaine. LaFontaine, however, seems to have something still on their mind.

“Are you sure you want to read that?” they ask, gesturing to the file in front of you.

“No.” you answer honestly. “I want her to tell me herself, but _apparently_ that’s too much to ask for.”

The bitterness seeping through your voice must be clear to LaF too, but if it is, they don’t address it. “Then be patient with her,” they say instead, making you look up at them, tiredly. You’re tired of being patient. “I didn’t know her personally,” they continue slowly. “I only talked to her a couple of times, but I know _of_ her, and whatever happened back then, whatever might be in that file… it’s not who she is now, is it? So does it really matter?”

LaFontaine gives you a small smile before they leave you alone in your room with the humongous file in front of you. You consider their words very carefully as you stare down at the folder in your lap.

Would it really matter what it says?

You grab the file firmly with a hand on each side, and only hesitating for a moment (she has been making an awful big deal about it, after all), you slide it under your bed before you grab your phone instead.

Laura [06:23pm]: | So… you’re the Dean’s daughter then?  
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**Author's Note:**

> If you liked what you've read so far, you're more than welcome to hit that tiny little heart down there in the right corner and feel free to leave a comment should you have any. 
> 
> You can also find me on Tumblr - [howtowasteamoment](http://www.howtowasteamoment.tumblr.com)
> 
> Update schedule: As often as I can -- I promise! But keep those encouraging messages coming on Tumblr - they're a big motivator!


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